The Mystery Of Revenge
by table42
Summary: Fatty's siblings? Food Poisoning? What next? The Find Outers and Dog are ready to solve the next first class mystery! Please read and review! Highest revies under Enic Blyton section! Please read! Thanks for readers support!
1. An Astonishing Surprise

**Chapter 1: An astonishing surprise  
**  
"Oh, I do hope the train will arrive quickly." aid Bets. "We've not seen him for months and I want to know if he has anything exciting to tell us." The four friends and Buster were getting impatient. They were wauting for Fatty as his school ended later than the others' and he was coming home today.

"A mystery you mean?" asked Pip. "Don't be an idiot Bets.You can't expect him to turn a mystery out of thin air at once. He's not a magician."

"It's been rather dull without him," said Larry."I..." But before he could complete his sentence, there came a deafening roar and the train pulled up. Buster immediately scuttled under the seats, frightened. The children scanned the approaching people, expecting to see a familiar round face, grinning from ear to ear, but to no avail. There was a boy though, but he was too thin. The boy was rather good-looking, with dark hair and a pair of bright, hazel eyes. He looked around calmly and, to the other's astonishment, walked towards them.

"He can't be Fatty," whispered Bets. " He's not, not fat although he has dark hair." The 'stranger' grinned and opened his mouth.

"Hallo," he said. The others instantly recognized that voice. Buster scampered around him and barked madly, obviously seeking his master's attention.

"How come you're so thin? You don't look like Fatty," exclaimed Bets.

"I've been training for basketball and tennis for the whole school term, gone on a diet and stuff like that. I'm more or less quite fit now. Don't look so astonished, I really am Fatty, " said Fatty.

"But if you're thin than you're not Fatty anymore. I think you look better last time."

"I think you look a lot more handsome like that," said Larry. Pip stuck out his tongue.

"I don't think he looks handsome," said Pip. Pip was a little jealous. He secretly thought the other way. Fatty grinned. Pip scowled.

"You must have trained a lot if it could change you so much. I bet you ate a pea for every meal," teased Daisy

"No I didn't. But the training was rather tough. I felt pretty sore the first few days. So sore my brothers had to help me walk to the dormitory. But I soon got used to it."

"You can't have been that sore!" said Pip

"Well, you haven't tried training. Here's the program. One hundred push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, and running round the track six times. That's warming up. And there are drills, so on so forth. You could also try..."

"Whoa. Now you're talking," said Larry. "It's easy now for you I suppose?"

"No. I still puff and pant a bit. " He said, grinning. They arrived at Fatty's house and saw Mrs. Trotteville. They greeted her politely. Mrs. Trotteville stared at her son and blinked.

"I must say I can hardly regconise you Frederick. Have you been starving yourself?" Without waiting for an answer, She smiled and hugged him. Fatty did the same. He then explained everything all over again.

"Alright. Go and unpack your things first, then we will have lunch together. Your friends can come back again later."

"Yes mummy." he said. He went up to his room, dragging his stuff behind. The others followed him. They entered Fatty's room and to their astonishment, saw that instead of one bed, there were three and two extra writing tables and drawers. They looked at Fatty, who looked slightly amused. He said nothing but instead went on unpacking his things.

He laughed at their surprised faces and said, "You'll find out tomorrow." After unpacking, he showed them out of the house and grinned to himself. Back at the drive, the others were wondering what the beds were for. How many surprises he's got I really don't know." said Pip. 'What were the beds for?' The others thought.

"Perhaps he's got cousins staying for a while," said Larry

"Then I hope they will be nice," said Bets.

Soon, everyone was convinced that here were cousins of Fatty's staying over.

"We'll be able to see them tomorrow," said Pip. "Fatty said so."

"Hopefully," added Larry.


	2. The Arrival And Interesting News

**Chapter 2: The arrival and some interesting information.**

The next day, Fatty was very cheerful. The others thought it was because of his 'cousins'. It was half true.

"How many cousins have you got that are coming?" asked Bets.

"Err... None?" said Fatty

"But just you wait and see, ok? They'll be here any minute."

True enough, Mr. Trotteville' s big, black Rolls Royce pulled up and a lot of people came out. Fatty grinned at the other's astonished faces when they saw who stepped out. There were four boys and a girl. But the most astonishing thing was that two boys, I repeat, two boys that looked exactly like Fatty. Fatty walked towards them and gave the two each a brotherly hug. They grinned back at him.

"Meet my triplet brothers Francis and Franklin. This is my elder brother, Zachary. He's seventeen. And these are my little twin brother and sister, Rachel and Randall and they're nine." The others were shocked. To tell the truth, all of them looked very cheerful and friendly.

"What a rare family" thought Larry.

Zac had strawberry-blonde hair and dark blue eyes. The two triplets were, of course, exactly like Fatty. They were brunettes, with hazel-brown, bright and intelligent eyes. The twins had strawberry-blonde hair and big baby blue eyes. Their features made them look very lovable. Bets could not help smiling. She would have someone about her age to play with now.

"All right" said Mrs. Trotteville. "Welcome home. We've already got your rooms ready of course. Francis and Franklin will share a room with Frederick. Zac will have his own and the twins will have another. I want you all to unpack, and then Frederick will show you around a bit. Then finally, when your father comes home, we'll meet and celebrate with a homecoming dinner." She gave them each a hug and kiss.

After everyone unpacked, Fatty showed them around, Buster following and barking madly.

"Shut up Buster, have you forgotten your manners?" said Fatty in disgust.

"Are you sure these are your brothers? I thought you were an only child," said Bets. Fatty pulled Francis to him.

"Does he look my brother?" he asked, grinning. Bets turned red.

"Oh, Fred, I forgot to tell you. We've qualified for the audition callbacks," said Francis cheerfully. Fatty, however, looked superior.

"Ha! I already expected that," he said.

"There you go again, I wonder when you will change that old habit of yours," said Franklin. Fatty punched him. The others grinned.

"What auditions?" asked Larry.

"Oh, some studio people came to our school to look for students to auditions for an action movie. So we tried and got in," replied Francis.

"What are your names?" asked Randall suddenly.

"Oops. Forgot. Err… Larry, Daisy Pip and Bets. Bets will be company for you two." Fatty smiled at the twins.

"But Fatty, How come they were separated from you?" asked Bets

"Relation problems and stuff like that. I really can't be bothered to tell you. It's too long a story," Fatty replied. Larry, Daisy Pip and Bets looked at the triplets closely.

"Lets spot the difference. Whoever wins, gets an ice cream," said Larry solemnly.

"Idiot," said Pip.

But all the same, they looked. The triplets stood still grinning.

"I know! Fatty's hair twirls the other way," said Daisy

"Right first time," said Franklin. "I feel like a waxwork. Honestly! Couldn't you think of a better way instead of making us stand here like that?"

"I know! I know!" exclaimed Bets excitedly. "Frank has broader shoulders. It's quite obvious actually."

They also soon found out that Fatty was the youngest triplet.

"I thought that you were the oldest. You have fine qualities of a leader," said Bets, once again hero-worshipping.

Franklin pretended to choke.

"For goodness sake Bets, leadership qualities isn't everything. For example, ask Fred go for a 100m dash with me. He'll faint."

"Oh yes, Frank. Very funny. What about comparing your school results with me. Why! I am always top of form and you are always slightly above average…"

"I'm only two positions lower than you! Besides, I didn't study at all! You know I'm way smarter than you!"

"And not to forget..." but before Fatty could finish his sentence, Franklin pushed him onto the floor and soon the two boys were yelling and pummeling each other. Francis, the eldest triplet, sighed.

"Quarrelsome boys, those two," he said.

Mrs. Trotteville rushed up to see what the commotion was about, rather worried.

"Goodness! What's got into both of you! You're behaving like nine-year-old kids. Get up!" she said. The twins looked dignified.

"We don't behave like that," demanded Rachel.

"All right, six year olds then," drawled Francis.

"Hey! You watch your words Frans. Try me."

"Don't forget mother's here." Francis smirked.

"Right. Fight over. Cased closed." said Fatty, smoothing his hair. "Let's have lunch. I'm starving."


	3. Bother The Brother

Chapter 3: Bother The Brother 

Fatty's siblings turned out to be a very amusing and friendly bunch.

Zachary, whom they knew as Zac, treated them just like the way he treated his own siblings. He was friendly, caring and helpful. Last but not least, he was horribly shrewd. Zac could play tennis and the guitar and sing well; he had performed in school concerts before, Frank told the Find-Outers.

Francis, known as Frans, was matured, quiet, but not at all shy. He knew how to control his two triplet brothers quite well especially when they quarreled… at least, most of the time. He could be rather bossy at times though.

Franklin, known as Frank, could be rather annoying at times but usually amusing, cheerful and friendly. He was also extremely sharp and it was exceedingly hard to play a trick on him. Fatty was the only one who could do that. Frank usually ended up quarrelling with Fatty when one of them was to be teased by the other. Frank and Frans quarreled even more, though. The triplets were totally different character wise despite their identical looks.

The fraternal twins, Rachel and Randall, were sweet and lovable in their own ways. They were always stuck together and were inseparable, even at school. Bets simply loved playing with them. Both of them, being the youngest were surprisingly independent and hardly ever asked their elder brothers for help. The twins were usually left alone as they were very much younger then their siblings.

Mr. Goon, as turnip-headed as ever, hardly noticed the very much more crowded Trotteville family until much later, when a trick was played on him. The only one he found out after a surprising conversation was Zac, who, oddly, became Goon's only friend.

It was known that Zac was a very sociable person. Still, being good friends, or even trying to be friends with Mr. Goon, was almost as good as winning an Olympic medal; most people would have rather made friends with a wheezing old tramp. It shocked Fatty and the Find-Outers the most.

"I didn't think he was that good. Fancy being friends with old Clear-orf," said Larry.

"In addition, he's my brother! I did think Mr. Goon would have avoided my siblings. Mr. Goon even told him to watch me and make sure I don't 'interfere' with the law. Amazing," said Fatty.

"Simply amazing," agreed Daisy.

"You seem to quarrel with Frank a lot. But I really must agree he is pretty annoying at times. He's too smart. A proper genius. I don't wonder."

Fatty smiled. "Well, besides loving, we think that brothers are meant for quarrelling with too." He grinned round at them. "Ha! Just kidding. I just can't seem to get him to agree with me at times."

"Frans told me you used to fight with him when you were younger. Frank I mean." Larry smirked as he continued. "Usually ends the fight with Frank knocking you over."

"Oh! Erm, that was about eight years ago. Forget it. You know I'm stronger now! And he just likes taking advantage of me because he's twenty-four minutes older."

"Still, Frank certainly looks fitter and stronger than you! Just you look at his bulging muscles! I bet Daisy has got a crush on him!" Pip received a furious glare from Daisy for that.

"Well, he's very conscious about his health you know, he used to be very sickly and would still be if he didn't care about his health. He used to be very small and weak for his age, much smaller than Frans and I. Then we weren't identical at all. His diet everyday is always just right. That is the only thing he seems to care about. He takes two sports at school too, gym and running. He's good at both long and short distances. Won quite a number of medals, but he hates to show them off you see. Just you try offering him a packet of potato chips or sweets and see his reaction."

Just then, Frank walked in, looking rather cheerful. Daisy immediately turned red. Frank looked round and grinned.

"Hello! What's up? Did Fred tell you that I beat him in tennis or something?" Fatty scowled, muttering under his breath that he had only lost by one point. Franklin gave him a most charming smile that would have made the girls at his school scream, and leaned casually against the wall.

"Well, you know what I said was true LITTLE bro. Don't worry; I can see you're still sore. I don't blame you. I'll give you some time to cool. Bye!" Frank walked out and firmly shut the door.

Fatty leaned back and sighed.

"Bother the brother!" he sat up straight again and stared out of the window and saw his brother chuckling to himself.

"Looks more like _he _needs to cool. He's definitely over-excited," said Fatty dolefully.

Meanwhile, Franklin was letting a loud guffaw. Grinning, he walked backed into the house. He bumped into Zac, who saw his brother's mischievous face.

"Hello Frank! Up to something I suppose!" Zac thumped Frank on the back. "Right then, mind you don't over do whatever you're thinking of. You know your mother very well, I meant the letters she's written to you and me at school!" Mrs. Trotteville had constantly been writing letters to Frank every term to make sure he did not think of too many pranks and irritate the teachers too much. Zac, being head boy of the school and brother of prankster, was told to control Frank.

"I just hope there will be a mystery soon. I bet your siblings will come in useful, especially Frank," said Larry.

Fatty pondered for a moment and looked up, his eyes gleaming.

"Hey! Mr. Goon hasn't met my triplet brothers right?"

"Right!" The others chanted. They could see that Fatty was up to something.

"I am thinking, well, the three of us could lead him to a proper dance. I'm sure Old clear-Orf doesn't have enough brains to differentiate us anyway. What about it?"

The others stared at him. Then Bets spoke slowly.

"I think, I think it's a really great idea!" she exclaimed. Fatty grinned. He then lowered his head as if other people were listening and whispered. Soon, all five faces twisted into mischievous grins…


	4. The Days Events

Chapter 4: The Days Events 

"What's wrong with Zac?" asked Larry. "He seems so serious all of a sudden."

They were all in the triplet's room. Fatty had invited the others to spend the afternoon at his place. It was hot outside, and everyone felt that it was just too warm to do anything.

Fatty answered his question. "Well, he's going to college next year, see? He has to take an important exam to go to a good college so he is studying really hard for it. Zac's aiming for top, he is, not just A grades, top. You know him; Zac and Frans always have very high expectations of their studies. The exact opposite of Frank, always near bottom of form. He never cares. Wants to enjoy life, he says. Don't you, old fellow?" Fatty turned to Frank.

"Well, I don't see any good of studying to get a job. " Frank replied. "I'm good at art and sports and I love them. My future job would have to revolve around those aspects. I don't see what good doing sums will do to help with my talents. It's just a waste of time." And Frank put on a very petulant expression.

Fatty sighed. "Sports would not get you anywhere in life, Frank."

His brother snorted. "Rubbish! Just look at those sports champs! They get paid millions of pounds to compete. You know that. And anyway, I'd rather do art." The others stared at Frank in surprise.

"Can you draw? I mean really well? May we see some of your work, please?" asked Bets excitedly. Frank looked at Fatty. Fatty, as we all know, could draw very well too. He did not look too pleased; Frank was stealing away all his glory! Oh well, he thought, he ought to be proud of his brother, not get angry with him just because he was multi-talented.

"Of course you can!" cut in Frans. "Go and show it to them Frank! You ought to be proud of your work." Frank nodded.

"Alright. I'll get it," said Frank cheerfully. "Hold on a minute. It's in my drawer." He got up and took out a few pieces of paper in a file. Taking them out, he passed the art around.

"Dad bought me good quality paper," he told the others. He supports my love for art. That is why he doesn't say much about my results. I already told him I wanted to be an artist when I grow up."

"That's not the reason, Frank, and you know it," interrupted Frans. Dad would never do that. It is only because he knows you are smart. Smart enough to memorize anything told to you even once. Smart enough to answer any question the teacher asks you, even when you are not paying attention. Smart enough to get what you want all the time. Smart enough to…" Frans stopped in the middle of his 'lecture' abruptly when Frank gave him a sharp jab in the ribs.

"Shut up!" muttered Frank, going red in the ears. The others suddenly stared at him in awe. It seemed that Frank did not share Fatty's love for boasting.

"These pictures are certainly very good, Frank!" praised Daisy. "You've done lots of details on this one. And look! This sunset is beautiful! It looks so real."

"And look at this sea picture! You ought to sell it to Banshee Towers Art Gallery! It's so realistic!" admired Bets. The others laughed.

"Well, I love painting pictures of natural scenery. I've always liked the way colours blend together seamlessly to form a lovely picture. Sunsets and sunrises are great examples. And look, here you see…" Frank began to get so absorbed in his picture description. He went on to describe the kind of brushes he used, the specific size and brand, and all the steps he took to paint a sunset. All but Fatty understood what he was saying.

In the middle of his passionate speech, Frank suddenly stopped.

"I'm saying a bit too much, aren't I?" he asked. The boy chuckled.

Mrs. Trotteville came in. "I need some help from you, boys. I'm quite busy at the moment and Zac's having a bad migraine. Could one of you please fetch some water and a cool towel for him? I made Zac rest in bed, but he won't be parted from his beloved books for too long, even though he's groaning away like anything. I'm dreadfully late for a committee meeting and I've got to rush." Fatty sprang up.

"Is Zac alright mother? Is he in bad shape?" he asked.

"Quite," answered his mother vaguely. "I really have to go or I'll be late. I won't be back till evening. And one more thing, make sure the poor boy doesn't go and force himself to study again. He's very stressed out."

With that, the woman left hastily. The children were standing in the room. "I hope poor Zac's alright," said Frank worriedly.

"I'll get the water and towel," offered Daisy.

"I'll go too," added Bets. Fatty nodded. He went over to Zac's bedroom and pushed the door open. Everyone peered in. The room was dark as the curtains had been drawn shut and it was very quiet. Zac was lying in bed massaging his temples. He looked very pale but stopped when he noticed the little company. He struggled to sit up but Frans pushed him back down.

"Lie down Zac," the oldest triplet ordered. "How're you feeling?"

"You look ill," observed Pip. Zac snorted. "Good observation," he muttered dryly.

Just then, Bets and Daisy came in holding a glass of water and a towel with ice.

"Cook gave us this, she said it was good for headaches and fevers," she declared. "We could get more ice if Zac needs it. Here's the water."

"How are you feeling Zac?" asked Daisy with concern. Zac smiled faintly and sat up, drinking the contents in one gulp. Dropping the cup, he bent double and clutched his head, moaning in agony. Fumbling for some painkillers on his dresser, he downed two in a gulp. Pip looked impressed. He'd never managed to swallow even _one_ before! It always had to be broken.

"Golly! Is it that bad? You'd better get some sleep. It always works." Frans helped Zac lie down again and Daisy gently placed the towel on his forehead. It numbed Zac's forehead and the pain soon receded. Zac slowly fell into a fitful sleep.

"You don't think Zac's ill do you?" asked Bets.

"Don't think so," answered Frank. "Mother said it was stress. Zac often gets headaches. Only this one seems to be worse than normal. We had better not disturb him. Let's go for walk around the neighbourhood. I'm bored. We'll take Buster along. He needs the exercise, anyway. I hope we meet Mr. Goon."

Bets looked at the boy in surprise. "Well, I hope we don't." She shivered. Bets was frightened of the big, burly policeman. "Let's take our bicycles," put in Fatty.

To Frank's joy, they really _did_ meet Mr. Goon. The triplets had a hurried conference and quickly went their separate ways. Unfortunately, it did not quite work out the way they had planned! Fatty was just cycling to his designated spot when he bumped into someone oncoming and fell off his bicycle.

"So sorry, Mr. Goon," said Fatty politely, realising that the person he had cannoned into was none other than the fat, panting policeman on his bicycle. That had not been part of their plan! The boy quickly recovered and improvised.

"I'm afraid I didn't see you. Besides, you were on the wrong side of the road, you see, and---"

Mr. Goon did not see. He was not hurt, because he had stopped himself from falling off his bicycle with a mighty effort, but he had no time just then to argue with that 'Toad of a Boy'. "Clear orf", he bellowed, mopping his red face with a loud handkerchief, and pedaled off.

But who could describe his surprise when, after turning the next corner still going the wrong way, he again saw someone almost on top of him! The policeman swerved violently, but --- crash! Down he came with an almighty bump.

Goon looked up in a fury and to his amazement, the same cheeky face that had humbly apologized to him hardly a minute ago again looked him into the eye!

"Now look 'ere," said Mr. Goon faintly, his rage turning to puzzlement. "What's all this? Didn't I just tell you to clear orf?"

"Not me," Frank cheerfully said. He turned his face into one of concern. "Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Mr. Goon? It might explain why you were cycling on the wrong side of the road." He smartly skipped out of the way, because he saw Mr. Goon's face turn into a familiar purple color. Whistling cheerfully as if he hadn't a care in the world, the triplet picked up his bicycle from where it had fallen and cycled off, leaving a bewildered Mr. Goon sitting on the ground.

He met the others not far away and they all exploded into fits of laughter when he told them his story.

"Oh, I've got a stitch on my side. That was so funny!" squealed Pip and collapsed with laughter again.

"Alright!" Fatty yelled. "Let's have tea to celebrate. Cheers to us for succeeding in confusing and humiliating poor old Clear-Orf thoroughly! Come here Buster! The fun's over!" The boy grinned and pulled the others up. The children soon recovered and walked into a nearby teashop, leaving the triplets' bicycles leaning on the wall outside.


	5. Double Trouble

**Chapter 5: Double trouble**

At the teashop they usually frequented, Mrs. Stevens, the shopkeeper greeted them cheerfully and commented about Fatty's lost of weight. Fatty gave the amused owner the usual long and tempting order. After she wrote it down, she asked, "Are you sure that's enough?"

Fatty hesitated. "It should be for the time being." He grinned and looked around the teashop. It was the same as ever, peaceful, cheerful, and bright. Then, at the corner of his eye, he noticed someone who seemed to be staring rather hatefully at him. Just as he turned around to catch a better view of the man, said man also turned away and began to talk to one of the assistants in the shop. Fatty frowned. There was something funny about this man. Why did he stare at him like that? A voice soon broke his train of thought.

"Hey! What's up? Are you feeling alright? Why do you look so thoughtful all of a sudden?" Fatty's thoughts dissolved into nothingness as he turned to face the speaker.

"Yeah, I'm fine," replied Fatty, ignoring the nudges Frank was sending him and glancing back at the man again. Frank saw that and stared.

"Why are you looking at him?"

"He seems to have more than a passing interest in us. Maybe he's up to something."

"You want to know what I think? I think you are just over-reacting. Perhaps he recognized you in the papers or something. You're pretty famous because of all the mysteries you solved, you know."

Fatty shook his head. "What are the chances of that happening? No, I think it's more that just a simple recognition. From the way he gazed at me, it appeared that he already knew who I was. It's like he's planning something."

Frank agreed. "He doesn't exactly look friendly either. I--" He was saved from commenting by the arrival of the hot, buttery scones.

"Tuck in all of you! My treat!" Fatty beamed, and took a huge bite from the nearest scone. Frank, who had suffered from food poisoning because of scones a few months back, was more cautious, taking only a small bite and tasting it carefully. Sensing something wrong, he spat it out immediately. The others, however, were too busy staring ruptured at the mysterious stranger to even notice that the food had arrived.

Too late, Fatty had realized that the scones had tasted funny. He choked, turning purple in the face, which reminded Bets horribly of Mr Goon in a fit. Alarmed, Frank thumped his brother in the back, using such a great force that Fatty's head was repeatedly slammed faced-down into the table. Using an enormous effort, Fatty finally swallowed the offending piece of scone, both to Frank's delight and chagrin.

"Don't eat the scones. It doesn't taste right and may have been poisoned," Frank warned.

"I hope our dear Frederick doesn't fall ill. You really should have spat it out you know."

Fatty shrugged unrepentedly. Frans called the waitress and told her about the scones. Far from what he expected, the waitress did not look surprised at all. She had, in fact, turned around and glanced excitedly at the man who had glared at Fatty, which was obviously quite a mistake. It was at that moment that Frank had begun to find the whole issue very suspicious. Very suspicious indeed.

"Let's go home. I'm no longer in the mood for scones." Frans looked rather disgusted. They left the shop without paying, though Pip had trailed behind and looked rather pitifully at the half-eaten scones, obviously thinking that it was a waste. Frank took one last glance at the enigmatic man and followed the others.

That night, Fatty did not want his supper with an excuse that he was on a diet; quite forgetting he was not fat anymore. Frans became very worried and hoped that the scones weren't too tainted. Frank was worried too, though he didn't show it outwardly, and so was Mrs. Trotteville, although she did not know a thing about the teashop incident. Zac had just recovered from his migraine and was still feeling a little tired. Other than that, he was perfectly fine. He had told himself that he would have to work doubly hard to pay back for the rest he had that afternoon.

When Frank and Frans walked into their shared room to check on him, their brother was already in his bed and out like a light.

"Do you think he'll be fine? Looks a little off-colour if you ask me," Frans muttered hopelessly to his triplet.

"We'll just have to find out tomorrow." Frank responded. "We can't do much, anyway, except tell mother about what happened. I doubt she'll take that lying down."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Probably start saying we should have taken good care of our _younger_ brother," agreed Frans, and they got ready for bed.

The next morning, Fatty went down for breakfast, for once unable to think of an excuse to avoid it. His stomach churned at the sight of food, so he just sat there, pushing his egg and bacon around his plate with not the slightest intention to eat it. Frank saw this and jabbed him sharply in the ribs.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Fatty glared at him, clutching his side.

"Well, you've got to eat something. You didn't have your supper." At this, Mr. Trotteville put down the paper he was reading and stared at his son, as if challenging him to disagree. Fatty gave Frank a fierce look, warning him not to say anything, while quietly chewing a bit of his congealed egg. Across the table, Frans buttered a bit of toast and handed it to him.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright Frederick? It's not like you to miss meals twice in a row. You look quite tired out." His whole family looked up and stared at him. Fatty groaned. Now he had more attention to himself! Excusing himself from the table, Fatty walked slowly and unsteadily to the bathroom, and promptly emptied the contents in his stomach into the bowl before him. Just then, Frank walked in.

"I didn't allow the others to follow me. You had better go and lie down. I told you, you shouldn't have swallowed something you know that tasted funny." Fatty suddenly collapsed as his legs gave way. Frank caught him just in time. Fatty quickly rinsed his mouth and allowed Frank to help him to his room.

"Have you finished your breakfast?" asked Fatty.

"Of course. Anyway, it doesn't really matter. What matters is that you're not too ill and that you'll be fine," said Frank, smiling in a nice gesture, very unlike the person that he usually was. He tucked his brother in and spoke.

"Mother's going to call Dr. Rainy. Get some sleep first." Fatty felt his eyelids begin to droop and, against his will, did as he was told. He had quite forgotten that he had called a meeting for the peculiar happenings the day before. Frank pressed the back of his hand against Fatty's forehead and told him he was running a temperature. He sighed.

"Who _did _this?" Suddenly, Buster, who had followed Fatty into his room, began to bark his head off.

"Gosh! Shut up, Buster. Buster! Whatever's gone into you?" Frank grabbed Buster and pushed him gently but firmly out of the room and shut the door with a snap. Immediately, the door opened again and Frans came in, accompanied by Mrs. Trotteville. She took Fatty's temperature and gave him some pills to take. Frans and Frank spoke to each other at the other side of the room, glancing at Fatty occasionally.

The Find-Outers arrived just as Dr. Rainy walked out of the house. They began to feel quite alarmed. Dr. Rainy smiled at them.

"Hello! Your friend Frederick's suffering food poisoning. It's quite serious. Goodness knows what he ate. His brother Franklin said something about poisoned scones. You might know about it I suppose." He paused at the worried faces. They nodded.

"Is Fatty going to be alright? Is it really that serious? Will he die?" asked Bets. Dr. Rainy laughed.

"He'll be fine. Don't worry. He should recover in about a week I expect." The doctor gave them a friendly wave, got into his car and drove off.

"Poor Fatty!" sympathised Daisy. "He must be feeling awful."

"Come on, lets go and see him," said Larry. They went straight to Fatty's room and saw him in bed, lying limply against the pillows, his flushed face making a stark contrast against the white sheets. His two triplet brothers and the twins were also there.

"How are you feeling Fatty?" asked Bets.

"I'm alright. Just a little uncomfortable I guess. I'm feeling a bit drowsy."

"Get some sleep then! You've been trying to stay awake for a few hours already. It's not like it'll help." Frank retorted in a fierce voice. He had been trying to make Fatty sleep for the past hour but Fatty simply refused. Now, here he was, telling the others that he was feeling sleepy. Frank was beginning to lose his temper. Meanwhile, Rachel flitted around arranging pillows, and prodding this and that into place.

"You don't have to be so fierce you know. He didn't do anything wrong. And besides, you're only a little older than him. That doesn't give you the right to boss him around. He couldn't help being younger," she said.

"Shut up! You're one to talk! You've got no right to order me around. Besides, you're _much_ younger than me! And leave those pillows alone! How's Frederick going to sleep if his head keeps being jostled around?"

"Hey!" Fatty interjected. "How am _I_ supposed to sleep if you two bicker and squabble like kids? You're both not helping at all." With that, the boy huffily turned around, destroying Rachel's careful work, and faced the other side of the room. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried his best to ignore the noises and doze off. Meanwhile, Rachel and Frank were still glaring at each other, arms folded. Randall put his arm round Rachel, him being the older twin, and led her out of the room to cool down. The Find-Outers were quite surprised. They had expected Rachel to cry halfway into the argument, just like Bets. And when Frank was involved, the retorts could always become cutting, even though he usually didn't mean it. Frank tended to shoot his mouth off.

But now it seemed to them that Rachel was a tough girl. In fact, grown-up enough to stand up against her brother, who was five years older. Bets thought she'd better start learning to be like her.

"We'll just wait for Fatty to wake up," said Larry, breaking the silence. Frank stomped out of the room and slammed the door shut. The others sat down and began to play a quiet game of cards.

Here's chapter five! Hope you've enjoyed it! I'm afraid the mystery will come out very slowly. Please review!


	6. The Informal Meeting

**Chapter 6: The informal meeting**

As soon as Fatty woke up, he insisted on calling a meeting and discussing the happenings of the day before. To let in the breeze, he had opened the window. All but Frank were sitting in the shade.

"Where do we start?" asked Frans, once the triplets and Find-Outers were settled comfortably on the hardwood floor. "Gosh, Buster, get off! That's Frank's place!"

"Fred and I saw the man whom we're suspicious of poisoning the scones. He had light brown hair…"

"And small grey eyes…" continued Fatty.

"Smooth hands and most likely in his early twenties…"

"Rather short, from what I could judge while sitting…"

"And finally, he's got a pointy nose and thin lips."

"There you go. One of you could easily shadow him," said Fatty, looking at the Find-Outers. "I certainly can't do it. All you have to do is put on a disguise and follow him… It's easy!" The Find-Outers stared at him in dismay.

"Wait up Frederick, not so hasty. What makes you so sure it was that particular man who poisoned you?" asked Frans, the ever-logical one.

Pip saw a chance and cottoned on. "We can't shadow him! He's a stranger! You don't know if he's dangerous or not! What if he…"

"You know we can't Fatty! We're not like you!"

"That's impossible. What if he catches us! I know it's unlikely you'll be caught but it's different for us!"

There was a perfect babel of voices afterwards, and Frank raised his hand, frowning.

"Ok, everyone, I'll do it. Honestly, it's such a simple task! Whatever is the fuss about? There is absolutely nothing to complain about! I'll set off tomorrow. Watch out for my disguise!"

Frank sighed. It had come to this. He hated people complaining so he had ended up volunteering himself. What a waste of time. Hopefully, he would be able to get to the bottom of this 'mystery' soon.

"Very well. You do it then, Frank. No harm done. However, I was trying to make them do it. They've got to practice you know," said Fatty reprovingly.

"Well?" Frank looked inquiringly at the others.

"You do it, Frank. None of us would dare to do it. Please?" Bets looked at the two brothers pleadingly with her best puppy-dog look. Everyone laughed.

"Well, I suppose you're really the best one for this job Frank." Fatty gave in. "Talk about altering your eyes! You're superb at that."

"Well… I'll plan more tomorrow." Frank decided. "Today's not a good day to do it. It's so sunny."

"How does that affect anything?" asked Fatty.

"You know I can't--" Frank started to say, but was abruptly cut off by Frans.

"Before either of you get too carried away, Frederick, you still haven't answered my question. What makes you think that man is a suspect? I mean, everyone is a suspect, but how do you know that it was that man who did the dirty deed?"

Fatty frowned. "He was looking rather hatefully at us—me in particular, when we entered the shop. He also conversed with the unrepentant waitress who brought us the tainted scones."

"Maybe he was looking at us because we are an unnaturally large group to enter the small shop. And don't forget, to him, three of us looked the same. It might be a coincidence that he happened to glance at you to study us better. It's natural."

"But he looked like he knew what he was doing and who he was looking at." argued Fatty. "Why do you not think he's the one, anyway? Why are you shielding him?"

"I'm not," Frans protested. "How could he know who he was looking at? We look identical from afar. Even your friends had to squint closely at us to tell the difference."

The Find-Outers nodded in agreement behind the eldest triplet.

"Perhaps you're trying to kill your brother, Frans." Frank eyed him suspiciously.

"I'm not, I just--" blustered a flustered Frans.

"HA!" announced Frank triumphantly. "Nothing to say, have you? Caught in the act!"

"I think I'm going to be sick," gasped Fatty suddenly. He quickly got out of bed and rushed to the nearest bathroom. The twins walked in at that time. Randall bumped straight into Fatty, who nearly threw up all over his brother, but managed to stop himself in time with one large gulp. He promptly turned green. Rachel pulled Randall away and went over to Bets to ask her to play with them. Frank cut in before Bets could answer.

"You can't. We're discussing something. It's rude of you to interrupt. Besides, you've got Randall, so stop bothering us."

Rachel, who hadn't actually forgiven her brother (Frank hadn't forgiven her either,) glared at him before yelling,

"That's none of your business! Just back off! Just…" Rachel couldn't think of what to say. Frank smirked. Meanwhile, Randall backed away with his fingers stuffed in his ears. Frans edged cautiously closer, hoping to break the two of them up. Fatty's retching rang out in the silent doorways. Bets ran to help.

"Just back off? Is that all you wanted to say? I might have guessed. Well, I will back off…" Here, Frank took two steps backwards, "…but it doesn't mean that I would keep quiet. What about you trying to think of some better retorts? Hmmm, let's see..." began Frank irritatingly, pretending to think. At that, Rachel completely lost her temper and immediately rushed at him banging her fists on his chest. Frank caught her arm before it hit him.

"Now, now. You know you can't beat me, little weakling," teased Frank, throwing Rachel's arm back at her. "Be a good girl and play with your twin brother. He'll be sad if you don't." The Find-Outers were appalled. Frank was so mean!

Rachel's eyes started to fill with tears of anger. She hated being called weak. It wasn't her fault that she was born a lousy girl. Fatty walked in at that moment and saw Rachel looking furious, yet downcast. After giving Frank a knowing glance, he put his arm around her and beckoned to Randall, leading them back to their room. Bets trailed obediently behind him while Randall went after the both of them.

Frans glared at Frank angrily. "What did you do that for? Whatever has come over you? She's your sister! Have you no heart? You even made Fred get out of bed! You know very well he's ill!"

"I didn't ask him to do it, and besides, he was already out of bed in the first place. Anyway, Rachel had no right to shout at me."

"But you were the one who provoked her. Speaking of which, you still haven't apologised for making her angry yesterday. As for today, all she wanted to do was to play with Bets. She…"

"You're starting to sound like an old lady." Frank muttered under his breath. He began to mimic a wrinkled old woman, muttering furiously under his breath while hunching and squinting his eyes. Frans let out an angry hiss but was speechless. He felt he couldn't stand talking to Frank any longer and turned his back to him. Frank took the chance and left the room, slamming the door with a loud bang.

Frans sighed dejectedly. "Incorrigible. Sorry about this," he apologised to the others. "Hanging out our dirty laundry like that. But you know; it's very common to have such quarrels in this family. It's simply too big. I'd better check on Fred and the twins. I trust you can make your way out on your own." At that, Frans hastily walked out of the door, leaving Pip, Daisy and Larry sitting shell-shocked on the floor.

"What a rude dismissal," grumbled Pip, as they got up and made their way to the door.

"You're one to talk," chided Larry.

"Frank can be really rude can't he?" sympathised Daisy. "Poor Rachel!"

"He's cheeky too. Thankfully, Rachel's on par with in terms of will. She's younger than Bets, but can already stand up to her brother. Fancy that!" said Larry speculatively.

Pip scowled. "Don't you give Bets any ideas. I like her as she is, thanks."

To break up any further arguments, Daisy hurriedly cut in. "Bets told me she's an ice-skater, and quite a good one too. Attends practice thrice a week at six in the morning. That's a lot of hard work."

"It might explain her toughness," replied Larry. The others agreed fervently.

In the twin's room, Rachel had finally burst into tears; she couldn't take it any longer. She hated Frank right down to the core. Fatty was trying to find out what had happened from Bets and Randall. Frans walked in and spoke.

"Should I get Zac? You're supposed to be in bed you know."

"Alright, get Zac. Was Frank really that mean?" asked Fatty, remembering the smile Frank gave him during breakfast.

"Yes, he was. I don't blame Rachel for breaking down." said Frans comfortingly, trying to make Rachel feel better. "I don't think I could even stand up to him like that." Bets had also put her arm round Rachel and was trying desperately to cheer her up, but to no avail.

Frans turned abruptly to Fatty. "Look here Fred, you had better get some rest. You look as if you're about to faint!"

It was true. Fatty did look rather grey. He felt certain that he could not walk. He obediently left the room, and walked unsteadily to his own, collapsing shakily into his bed when he was there. Without bothering to pull up the sheets, he curled up into a ball, clutching his aching stomach and fell asleep. He felt so cold…

At length, Daisy peeped into his room to have a final check on him before leaving.

"Are you alright Fatty?" she asked timidly. There was no answer.

"Fatty?" Still no answer. 'Oh dear, he got so agitated at his brother's quarrel this morning, and also about Rachel's problems' thought Daisy worriedly. 'I do hope he's feeling alright.' She walked into his room and looked at him, before proceeding to pull up his blanket. Fatty did not say a word nor twitch a muscle. He was exhausted and on the brink on sleep. You couldn't play about when you had food poisoning!


	7. The Weird Dream

**Chapter 7: The Weird Dream**

Frans called Zac into the twin's room to calm their sister down. Zac entered and immediately ordered everyone out of the room. He picked Rachel up from the chair she was sitting on and placed her on his lap. Being the eldest and all, he managed to stop Rachel from crying using the least effort. He began to cuddle her and spoke to her softly. Rachel finally quietened down, save the occasional sniff and uneven breathing. She snuggled closer to her seventeen-year-old brother and fell asleep.

When it was over, Mrs Trotteville entered with Randall in tow. She smiled when she saw Zac placing Rachel gently on her bed and tucking her in.

"No problems?" she asked.

"No, everything's under control here." answered Zac softly. "Are you going speak to Frank? Shall I maybe?"

"No, I'll do it. But I'm first going to check on Frederick." Mrs. Trotteville bustled into the triplet's room, with the thermometer in her hand. What a shock she got when she saw Fatty tossing and turning feverishly on his bed! Mrs Trotteville had expected him to be sleeping peacefully, and getting better. Unfortunately, that did not seem to be the case.

The capable woman turned to her son and took his temperature. Fatty was running a high fever! She placed the ice pack on his forehead, turned on the fan and kissed Fatty, hoping that it would relieve the pain somewhat. When she walked out, Frank crept in without being seen and placed a piece of paper on Fatty's bedside table. The boy grinned to himself. Why not play a prank on his brother to cheer him up? It risked himself getting scolded, but it would be worth it. He weighed the paper down with the alarm clock and snuck out again.

The moment Frank walked into the sitting room, he was treated like a bad smell. All his family members, except Zac, who was now studying in his room, turned their backs on him. Although Frank did not mind, he could not help but feel a bit guilty. Was it really entirely his fault? Frans walked up to him.

"Mother wants to have a word," he said curtly. Frank nodded, and readied himself for a long and disgraceful conversation.

Meanwhile, Fatty was not having a good rest at all. In fact, he was having a very queer dream.

-Start of Dream-

Fatty was in a cemetery, together with the man from the teashop. The man let out an evil guffaw and trussed Fatty up like a turkey. After he had gagged him too, the man removed his own belt and swung it around in the air like a crazed cowboy, occasionally landing a slap on a nearby tombstone. Fatty trembled like a blancmange. He even was too frightened to move a muscle! His body felt like lead and there was no one else around to help him.

So! The great detective Frederick Trotteville got caught by the infamous me. Me, of all people! Aren't I smart! If my old mommy lived to this day, I'm sure she'd be proud of me. Too bad though, I did advise her to give up smoking…" The man walked over to a tombstone and peered at it. "How 'bout it, eh, mommy? I finally caught the elusive Trotteville! Pig trotters for dinner, then!"

"This man has gone completely insane," thought Fatty. "He's crazy, absurd, bonkers, batty, daft, nutters, cuckoo, loony, psychotic, unsettled, cracked…"

He was still thinking up synonyms for 'blithering idiot', when the man stopped his ramblings abruptly and peered a little closer at the tombstone.

"Oops. Wrong one," he muttered shamefacedly, and moved to the next. After ascertaining that this was indeed the right grave, he dug a little into the soil and removed a half-smoked cigar.

"The last cigar," he said mournfully, and sighed theatrically. "I did warn her…"

He suddenly remembered that Fatty was still present. Ambling over to the boy, he grated a warning, effectively stopping Fatty in his words (a crackpot, lost his marbles, off his rocker, round the bend, has a lose screw in the head…).

"So! You want to know my little secret before I kill you? I'll tell you, young man. I'll tell you. I'm the only one who knows it. No one else! Think of it as a privilege to know this too. But remember you won't know it for long..."

The man paused and smirked. "I'm taking revenge on a man. A man who fired me for stealing. Now that I have no job, I am going to burn his company down, see? How am I going to do it, you ask?" The man leaned closer. Fatty could smell his foul breath. He held his own. "First, I will get rid of all the detectives, so I would not be pinned down for doing the deed. Then, to burn down the building, I'll use a…Nah! Not telling you!"

In the distance suddenly an alarm rang.

"Say your last words, my boy!" the man yelled. And he brought the belt down.

-End of Dream-

Trembling and drenched with sweat Fatty woke up. Mrs. Trotteville was shaking him gently, with a worried look on her face. Around the bed Zac and Frans were crowded, and Randall was fiddling with Fatty's alarm clock, which had gone off for 'no reason at all'. Frank was nowhere to be seen. Relieved, Fatty took a few deep breaths and wiped the sweat away from his face.

"Are you feeling alright, Frederick?" his mother asked fearfully. "You were trembling in your sleep and your temperature was very high." It was clear that she was very worried.

"I'm fine. It was just a nightmare," murmured Fatty, sounding like he was convincing himself of that very fact. He shook off the blanket, suddenly feeling very hot. Mrs. Trotteville stared at her son's flushed face in dismay and took his temperature again.

"Do you feel better? Is it too warm?" she asked.

"Mother, I think I should get a glass of milk for him to drink."

Mrs Trotteville consented. "That would be good. Wait, this ice pack has melted. Could you get another?"

Frans nodded and disappeared. Zac ruffled Fatty's hair and settled down beside him. "How's Rachel?" Fatty asked, looking at his eldest brother. His mother frowned.

"Rachel's feeling great, Frederick. You're not to say another word on the subject. I don't want your condition to deteriorate. I've already spoken to Frank. The case is now closed."

Fatty sighed tiredly. "Mummy, I don't feel like sleeping anymore. I don't want to have another nightmare, and..."

To his relieve his mother agreed.

"That's fine," she said. "You brothers are good at keeping you awake aren't they? I'll leave that to them and go as soon as Frans comes back. I forbid you to sit up, however. You are to lie down and stay put until you feel better. If you feel sick, ask Zac for a paper bag. I've put some in your drawer." And with these words she left the room. As soon as she had left, Randall began to question excitedly. He was rather irritating.

"Hey! What did you dream about?"

"I don't want to talk about it," replied Fatty, placing the ice pack on his dresser and sipping his milk.

"Please? I promise I won't tell anyone."

"No."

"What if I gave you five pounds?"

"No."

"Alright… twenty."

"The answer is still no."

"What if I promise to be your slave for the whole of tomorrow?"

"No. And I'm not an idiot. You know you won't have to do much."

"Right. What if…"

"Oh, do shut up. You're driving me crazy. The answer will still be no, regardless of what you say or do."

Randall pouted and began to whine. "Freddd!"

"Zac! Did you hear a donkey bray? I thought I did, but I must be wrong. Maybe I'm hallucinating."

"Freddd!"

Fatty pulled the bed sheets over his head. But Randall yanked them back down.

"Why won't you tell me?" he asked.

"Number one, it's private. Number two; I don't wish to be reminded of it. Number three; you don't need to know. Number four…"

"Oh, alright! Don't tell me! See if I care!"

"Yes, you do. You seem to care a lot. But if you don't mind, I'd like some peace and quiet."

"I'll read a book."

"Suits me fine."

"Get well soon."

"I will, thanks."


	8. Breakfast

**Chapter 8: Breakfast**

"Do you feel well enough to go down for breakfast?" Frans asked the next morning, pulling a sweater over his head.

Fatty answered him. "I should think so. At least, I feel a little better. I should be able to manage a bit of food. You two go down first. I'm not ready yet." His brothers nodded and walked out of the room. At the table, Zac was helping to dish out breakfast, which consisted of tea and toast, coupled with eggs and bacon.

He sat down as the last plate was filled. "Mother, there aren't enough eggs to go round." Mrs Trotteville looked alarmed.

"I must have forgotten to cook the twins… No, no. That doesn't sound right. Oh! Cook_ for_ the twins, silly me." She laughed hysterically as the twins looked at her in amusement. "With Frederick and all… I remember thinking that the number of fried eggs looked less than usual. I'll fry them. Cook's off for today."

Seeing his mother's obviously frayed nerves, Frank decided to liven up the atmosphere. "Don't bother mother," he said airily. "I'll fry them. Just sit down and eat your food." Seeing his brother walk into the room, he added, "Here comes Fred. He'll help with the problem."

Although Fatty was ill, he still came down for breakfast. He had told his mother that he did not want to be treated like a hospital patient unless he was really feeling very unwell. Fatty was a one for convincing people, so it was not hard to make Mrs Trotteville agree.

"But he's running a temperature," protested Mrs. Trotteville.

"Exactly," proclaimed Frank. Turning to Fatty, he asked,

"Mind if I crack a couple of eggs on your head?" Fatty's flushed face got redder and he glared at his triplet dangerously. Frank behaved as if he didn't notice it.

"That's it, Fred! Come on, hotter! Hotter! Frans, get me the eggs will you?" Frans sat stonily in his seat, and refused to move.

"Spoilsport," grumbled Frank, but decided to flee at the certain death glare his mother was giving him. Scurrying to the door, the boy bowed and curtsied in a comical gesture. The twins exploded with laughter.

"Thank you for watching the invincible Frank at work, ladies and gentleman. Please enjoy your meal and have a good day!" He was off like a shot.

"Idiot!" snorted Frans. Surprisingly, Mr Trotteville smiled, which disgusted Mrs Trotteville very much.

"You should know better than to encourage him, James," she scolded her husband reprovingly. To be honest, Mr Trotteville was immensely proud of his children, especially his highly talented and mischievous son. He was not exactly biased, but he could not help showing off Frank's artwork to his colleagues. Of course, he was also proud of Zac, for his diligence and reliability, and the twins, for their determination and strength. Not forgetting Frans, with his sensibility, and the intelligent Fatty, who was the next most talented in the family after Frank. However, he liked Frank the most, though he always treated his children equally.

Mrs Trotteville looked at Fatty with a critical eye. "Are you sure you don't want to stay in bed Frederick?" she proposed. "You were quite shaky yesterday. I didn't think you would be hungry."

"I feel fine, mother." he responded. "I think I can manage a bit of toast." It was true. Fatty did not look as pale as before. On the other hand, Zac looked like he was going to be ill.

"Are you alright, Zac?" Mrs Trotteville queried. Really, the chaos in this family! "Is it one of your headaches acting up again?"

"Just a slight one. I'm fine." His mother still did not look convinced. Zac sighed helplessly. Just then, Frank walked in and took his place at the table, grinning.

"I think you're working too hard Zac," the lady continued. "Get some rest today. You're not to study. Go out for a walk or something." Zac looked horrified.

"Mum! I've already planned out a whole schedule! I can't possibly miss a whole day of study!" he blurted. "That's about thirteen hours! I've got to do really well to go to a top college and besides…"

"Zachary. That's enough." His father intervened. "I agree with your mother. Studying too much is affecting your health. There's no point going to a good college if you keep falling ill like that. A walk round the neighbourhood would do you good. It's not healthy to be cooped up in the house. Spend a day outdoors. Get some fresh air."

Zac fell silent. It was no use arguing. Once his father said something, it had to be done. He was chewing on a particularly stubborn bit of bacon when a most marvellous idea hit him.

"Do you think I could take the twins along?" he inquired. The twins looked up at once and nodded frantically. They loved going out with their big brother, and always told their school friends about him.

"Of course!" confirmed Mrs Trotteville delightedly. "Why not? In fact, the triplets could go along too! Except Frederick," she added apologetically. Frank shook his head regretfully.

"We can't." he objected. "We've already planned something with Fred's friends."

"Frederick, I don't want you solving mysteries while you're ill. And I do hope that you've not encouraged your brothers into this nonsense."

"Mother, I'm not solving any mysteries," Fatty responded patiently. "As for this 'nonsense' as you call it, you have my word that I will behave myself. And you know, it's far more likely that Frank will lead Frans and me into anything funny." Fatty looked hurt. Frank caught his eye and leaned across the table.

"Psst! Fred!" he whispered conspicuously in a stage whisper. "Did you see my message? I put it on your dresser."

Fatty smirked. "Yes I did. That _was_ rather rude of you, if I say so myself. I'll rat on you if you write anymore of that kind of thing. Just watch me."

"I don't need you to tell me that," his brother intoned. "Don't worry little bro, I will. Meanwhile, you watch _yours_." Giving Fatty a very irritating grin, Frank leaned back in his chair and swallowed his last mouthful of toast. He buttered another, and watched with satisfaction as Fatty glowered at him, unable to think of a suitable retort. Their mother squinted at the pair suspiciously.

"What, may I ask, was that about?" Her tone was sharp enough to cut through walls. The boys flinched, and Fatty hastened to pacify her.

"Well mother, if you really want to know…Ouch! Frank!" His brother had kicked him hard under the table. He gave Fatty a look that said, "Breathe a word about it and _die_." Fatty ignored him and continued.

"Frank actually… _Ouch_! Stop it!" Fatty hissed in pain and rubbed his sore ankle, giving a furious glare, which was returned across the table. Zac grinned at the two. They looked like a mirror image of themselves.

"That's not the right way to stop me, Frank," spat Fatty. "It's brutal and obvious." Frank immediately kicked him again. Fatty groaned with pain. Frank had very strong legs, as he was a runner. Mrs Trotteville looked sternly at her son.

"One more time you kick your brother and you leave this room at once!" Frank began to wolf down his bacon, not ready to leave the room at all. He was hungry. At least Fatty didn't mention anything about that poem. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the verse he had written for Fatty.

"I'm going back to my room," said Fatty sharply. And before anyone could stop him, he limped back to where he came from, stopping every now and then to rub the angry-looking bruise on his left ankle. Drat that Frank! He was getting too violent for words! He hadn't expected the kick to be that painful.

He sat on his bed and began to rub his sore ankle ruefully, wincing every now and then as he hit a particularly painful spot. Mrs Trotteville entered and frowned. His ankle _did _look bad. A massive bruise had formed and was steadily growing in size.

"Frank is getting out of hand!" grumbled Mrs Trotteville as she exited the room (not before rubbing cream of Fatty's ankle), and Frank was later given a very harsh scolding indeed.

Fatty was still massaging his ankle when his two brothers came in. Frank looked a little sulky. Frans gave Fatty an inquiring look. "Does your ankle still hurt?"

Fatty sighed and shook his head. To tell the truth, his anklebone was still throbbing painfully. He just didn't want another fuss, especially since he had not fully recovered from his bout of food poisoning. The boy slowly lay down and covered himself with the blanket.

"I think I shouldn't have eaten so much just now," he confessed. "My stomach feels a little queer." He looked at Frans and hastily continued, "I'm fine. Don't mention anything to mother, or she'll start fussing again."

"She has every right to, after all that has happened. Besides, you only had a slice of toast," argued Frans. "I saw you. That wasn't much."

"Unlike Frank here," he added, "_He _ate almost everything on the table." Frank looked grumpily at Fatty as if the lecture was his entire fault. Groaning, he laid lazily on his brother's bed, Fatty moving to give him room. Frank suddenly bolted up.

"If it wasn't for you…" he began, but paused, and continued more warily, "If it's all the same, I think I won't do the shadowing. I don't feel like it." Fatty bolted up in alarm as well. Frans pushed him back down and looked at Frank in disgust.

"I never knew you were so uncommitted with your promises. It seems like you can't be trusted after all." With that, the eldest of triplets turned and stormed out of the room. Frank looked astounded. "What's eating him?"

"Why won't you follow that man?" asked Fatty in a controlled voice of forced calm. It was clear that he was trying not to lose his temper.

"I changed my mind. Besides, it was _your_ fault that mother scolded me. If you had just kept quiet, I would have been spared a lecture. But no, our brave Fred couldn't withstand a little jab in the ankle and had to cry out so loudly, causing such a hullabaloo! If you hadn't exaggerated the pain in your ankle…"

"Exaggerate?" cried Fatty. "You really _did_ hurt me you know! How could you say that? How could you just blame me for something I couldn't help doing? My ankle still hurts!"

He yanked his trousers up in fury and practically shoved the purple terror at Frank. His brother stared at it and said nothing. Perhaps he had hit Fred a _little_ too hard after all… Still, it was no reason to over-react. Maybe it was _that _time of the month…


	9. Luke Brown Again

**Chapter 9: Luke Brown again**

Zachary was annoyed. Yes, he was annoyed. First, he had a massive migraine, causing him to lose several hours of study. _Then_, his brother came down with food poisoning, so he had to look after _him_. Next, his _other _brother bullied his sister, and he had to comfort _her _too. On top of that, he had been ordered to take a walk under pain of death (or something like that, anyway). His schedule was upset (if that wasn't bad enough) and he had to take his younger siblings who were hyped up and ready to go on a walk.

At first, it wasn't that bad. It had _seemed _like a good idea at that time. But now…the twins were bugging him and he was beginning to lose his temper.

"Can you be quiet for just a moment?" he ground out through clenched teeth. His migraine was getting worse, if possible. "Be patient! I've got to change." In the safety of his room, he downed two painkillers and sighed, leaning back against the door. Staring wistfully at the mountain of books lying on his table, he turned and left, resisting the lure of studying.

"Where are we going?" asked Randall excitedly, once they were on the road. "Can we go out of Peterswood?" Zac smiled faintly.

"If you want to. We had better take our bikes though, or you'll be tired out in no time." Walking back to the garage, he wheeled out 3 bicycles and they pedalled away swiftly.

The wind sang in their ears as they covered ground, promising a good time. Zac began to stop worrying his disrupted schedule. He shook the hair out of his eyes impatiently, and together with the twins, cycled out of Peterswood and to the next town. Zac always had a stubborn bit of hair falling over his face and covering half his left eye. He found it very annoying, but his mother insisted that it made him look good and refused to let him cut it. So it was left there, bothering him at the most improper of times.

As they stopped at a roadside shop for some refreshments, Zac saw a boy about his own age holding a small bag. The boy's clothes were filthy but he did not seem to notice it, catching Zac's eye and grinning. He had a rather wide mouth and very white teeth, and his gaze was so friendly that Zac could not help but to return it. He leaned his bicycle against a nearby wall and stretched out his hand.

"Hello. My name is Zachary, and these are my twin siblings, Rachel and Randall." The boy smiled and shook Zac's hand enthusiastically.

"Howdy. I'm Luke. Luke Brown. Where do you live?"

"We stay in Peterswood. How about you?"

"Everywhere," replied Luke blithely. "I wander about, see? My stepdad died 'bout two years ago, so I have nowhere to live." Zac processed this information slowly. How unusual.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know. You don't seem to look too upset, however." Luke laughed.

"Upset? Nah. We were never close. Besides, I feel much freer now." He began to speak more animatedly. "I earn my keep by polishing people's shoes, and can go wherever I want. It's quite a nice way to live. It's not so bad once you're used to it… By the way, do you know someone called Frederick Trotteville?" His listeners blinked in surprise.

"How did you know him?" cut in Randall, going red with excitement. Golly! Luke was a most surprising boy.

"You know him, then?" asked Luke curiously.

"Of course we do!" squealed Rachel. "He's my big brother. We are all Trottevilles." Luke suddenly clutched Zac's arm tightly.

"Then take me to him," he begged in desperation. Zac looked down at the boy latched onto his arm in surprise. He didn't know _what_ to do!

"Whatever is the matter?" he questioned. "Alright, we'll take you to see him! I'm fine with that. Have you got a bike?" Luke shook his head ruefully.

"I can borrow one, though." Zac nodded and turned to the twins.

"We will have to cancel the trip," he apologised. "You both don't mind, do you?"

"Nope," chirped Rachel, while Randall bobbed his head up and down in agreement beside her. "But you've got to promise us you'll take us out another day during the hols."

"Very well, I promise. I don't think mother would want me to stay indoors, anyway."

"Are you sure?" Randall looked sceptical. "We're quite certain you'll lock yourself up in your room."

"I won't. Mother is not one to be messed about with." It was, apparently, a shared joke in the family and the siblings laughed quietly. They turned to see Luke wheeling a bicycle out from nowhere. It looked brand-new.

"Where did you get that from?" gasped Rachel incredulously. "I didn't think anyone here owned a bike!"

Luke grinned mysteriously, showing off rows of pearly-white teeth. He refused to answer.

"Let's go," shrugged Zac, turning his bicycle around.

On the way home, the twins chatted lightly behind them while Zac and Luke engaged in casual talk. Questions from "How old are you?" to "What is your favourite colour?" were exchanged. Finally, Zac asked the important question he was dying to know.

"How did you meet Frederick, Luke?"

"Well, I used to work for Lady Candling," the boy began. "She lived right beside little Bets and Pip. And then one day…" Luke began to describe how the Find-Outers solved the mystery of the disappearing cat, and cleared his name as the thief.

When he finished his story, Zac had developed a new layer of respect for Frederick and his friends. They were at the gates of the 'White House', the Trottevilles' home, and Mrs Trotteville happened to be outside tending to some new shoots. She straightened up when she saw Zac coming back with the twins and wait-- was that Luke? In tow.

"Back so soon? I thought you were going to the next town."

"I was," her son responded, "but we happened to bump into Luke here, who wanted to be taken to Fred. I expect you know him. Mother, Luke Brown. Luke, this is our mother." Luke beamed and shook hands with a rather astonished Mrs Trotteville.

"Hello, Luke. It's nice to see you again. How's your stepfather doing?" Mrs Trotteville asked, by means of enquiry.

"He died of cancer two years back," replied Luke. "The house was given to someone else, but I snuck some of the furniture out to a cave in Marlow. I live there in rainy days."

Mrs Trotteville nodded, and Zac brought Luke up to Fatty's room. Rachel went back to hers, as she did not wish to see Frank as of yet.

"Frederick's down with food poisoning," Zac warned. "Don't make too much of a stir, will you?" And before Luke could protest, the boy knocked and pushed the door open.

Frans turned and looked at him. "I thought you were supposed to go out?"

"I _was_, but happened to meet a friend of Fred's. He wanted to see the Find-Outers." With that, Zac left, leaving Luke at the mercy of 5 very excited children, 2 'strangers', and one mad dog.

The Find-Outers stared at the dirty boy for a moment, unable to make out who he was. But the moment he smiled, showing the white teeth any dentist would be proud of; Bets gave a shriek and ran to hug him.

"Oh, it's Luke, it's Luke!" And the children crowded around the boy and began to question him eagerly.

"How are you Luke?"

"Good old Luke!"

"Where have you been Luke?"

"Have you been frit at all Luke? "

Luke looked delighted to see his friends again. He had missed them. Zac, who had been nearing his beloved books, jumped a few doorways away. Whatever was that din? He did a double take. 'Oh dear! I hope they don't tire Fred out too much.' On second thoughts, he _should _check up on him.

He neared the triplets' room and braced himself for the sudden onslaught of noise. Nudging the door open, he peered around the doorway cautiously, craning his neck to catch sight of Frederick. Ah! There he is. He looked at Fatty, who looked happy, but tired out.

Zac went over to him and felt his forehead for a fever. Fatty was hot, quite hot in fact.

"How are you feeling?" he asked his brother.

"I've got a stomach ache. I think I should have missed my breakfast. I feel very nauseous but I can't seem to throw up."

"Do you want to?"

"I think I might feel a little better if I did." Zac didn't know what to do. He had this nauseous feeling many a time because of his headaches and he knew what it felt like. He was quite sure it would be worse with a stomachache instead.

"How long have you been feeling like that?"

"It came shortly after breakfast." Fatty whispered. He looked quite pale now, and the noise was beginning to give him a headache. "I think it's getting worse. I feel very sick."

"Perhaps that might help you vomit. Stay still and don't move about too much," Zac ordered. "Throw up on the floor if must. Just don't get out of bed." He then slipped a thermometer into Fatty's mouth and turned to Luke, who was still being surrounded by the others. Frank and Frans didn't know Luke, so they just stood aside and watched the excitement.

Zac swiftly made his way to the children. "Luke, I think you could do with a new set of clothes," he announced. "Yours looks like it might come to pieces if a strong wind blows! I can spare you a set. Come on." Luke followed Zac to his room. The others beamed round at each other.

"He's still the same old Luke," voiced Larry. "As grinny as ever. Good old Luke!" Suddenly, Fatty made a gagging sound struggled to stand up. Frans hastily went over to him and took out the thermometer. Gracious! Fatty's temperature was getting higher by the minute. He took out a brown paper bag from Fatty's drawer and thrust it under his nose. Fatty bent his head forward and finally threw up. When there was nothing left, he sat back and took a few deep breaths. Frank handed him a glass of water to wash away the revolting taste. Fatty took it gratefully. He wasn't feeling any better at all. He had thought he would. He slowly lay back down on his bed with his left hand encircling his stomach protectively. Bets ran over to him.

"Are you alright Fatty? You look very pale." Fatty groaned. No, he certainly was not all right. He shut his eyes, hoping fervently that the pain and Bet's chatter would go away. If only he had not eaten that bit of toast… Fatty was feeling very unwell indeed.


	10. Birthdays and Scoldings

Chapter 10: Birthdays and scoldings 

Zac was in his room with Luke. They were both standing in front of his wardrobe.

"What would you like to wear?" Zac asked.

Luke shrugged. "Anything will do, really."

His host took some clothes he thought would fit his guest and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom. Luke went to wash.

Zac headed back to the triplet's room to check on Fatty. He was quite shocked when he saw how pale his brother had become.

"What is his temperature, Frank?"

"Thirty-nine point six," replied Frank with some hesitation, not sure if he should tell Zac. Fatty gave an agonised groan and rolled over. Rachel sponged her brother tenderly, her back determinedly facing Frank. Both were still angry at each other.

"There's a meeting in the shed after tea," said Frank in a low voice. "Our target has been spotted and it's time to take certain measures." Zac nodded in agreement. Just then, the Find-Outers and Luke walked in, having bumped into each other at the door. Luke looked very spruced up.

The children went to check on Fatty, and only left for the twin's room to play when it was clear that there was absolutely _nothing _they could doto help him. Zac, Frans and Frank were to tend to Fatty. Rachel went to talk to Bets. Frans took Fatty's temperature again.

"His temperature has been rising every time," began Frans worriedly. "This morning it was only about thirty-eight degrees, and…"

"And now, it's thirty-nine point eight," finished Frank flatly. "We have _got_ to get the doctor immediately. Frans, go and tell mother would you?" Frans went out, and the doctor was called at once. Mrs Trotteville entered and fussed over Fatty. Her son didn't even try to stop her. Fatty was very sick. His face was flushed and sweaty. There was a knock on the door. Mrs Trotteville looked up.

"That must be the doctor. I'll get him." Imagine her surprise when there was another doctor at the door.

"We usually have Dr Rainy to come and see Frederick," said Mrs Trotteville, eyeing the stranger up and down.

"Ah!" The stranger smiled. "That I know. He's busy today. I come in his place." The doctor had a slight Indian accent, making his voice sound unnatural. He looked _nothing _like an Indian, however. Mrs Trotteville nodded slowly and brought him to Fatty's bed. Frank blatantly stared at him, while everyone else just nodded and smiled politely. Frank was beginning to have a funny feeling about this doctor. He looked faintly familiar… Now where did he last see him?

"Where's Doctor Rainy?" questioned Frank nosily. "He never said anything about being busy when he came yesterday. He usually tells us beforehand."

Again, the doctor gave one of his irritating smiles. "It was a last-minute call," he answered. "Don't ask such questions boy. It is rude."

"I know, but…" Frank tried again. His mother interrupted him in mid-speech.

"Frank. Leave if you're going to be noisy." Mrs Trotteville was annoyed at her son's behaviour.

"I'm not going anywhere," insisted Frank stubbornly. He did not want this man to do anything funny to his brother. He might be a little too suspicious, but you never know…

Frank watched the doctor intently. He even asked the doctor about medicines and made sure he knew what he was doing. Much to his disgust, the doctor didn't stutter and was very confident about his work. When the man left, Mrs Trotteville turned to admonish Frank.

"What has come over you, Franklin Jericho Trotteville? First, you quarrelled with your sister. Then, you kicked your brother and teased him. Now, you bothered the doctor! I am very disappointed in you. Why did you ask the doctor so many questions? You behaved as if you knew more about medicine than he did! I was so ashamed! Where were your manners? I want a good explanation, and I want it now!" Mrs Trotteville was very angry indeed.

"You won't understand," muttered Frank sulkily. The noises in the twin's room had stopped. He knew they could hear his mother scolding him, and that added to his embarrassment.

"What did you say? Speak up!" Mrs Trotteville placed her hands on her hips impatiently.

"I'm sorry if I came across as rude, mother." Frank spoke loudly and slowly, as if speaking to a toddler. Mrs Trotteville felt her temper rise, and fought to keep it down. "In my defence, I know what I did, and did it to help Frederick." Mrs Trotteville looked at him sharply and resisted the urge to give him a tight slap. She settled with a warning instead.

"One more time, Franklin Jericho, and you'll be forbidden to leave this room except for your meals and the use of the bathroom." Zac sighed as his irate mother stormed out. Frank took up a bottle of medicine and inspected it.

"Why did you ask him those questions Frank?" he asked patiently. "You must have had a good reason."

Frank looked up from the bottle he had unscrewed and took a deep sniff. He tasted some of the medicine too, and grudgingly admitted it was the right kind.

"It's nothing. Just leave me alone." Frank set the bottle down with a bump and stalked out of the room angrily.

"There he goes, he's always in a bad temper when mother scolds him." Frans was clearly disgusted.

"It's tea time. Let's go, Frans. Get some sleep Fred. It always helps."

After tea, everyone went down to the shed to choose a disguise for Frank. Luke left, promising that he would come again and visit soon. Frank was still rather upset. He wasn't exactly sulky, but his face was as long as a papaya.

"What's the matter Frank?" Bets inquired. "Are you still angry?"

"I'm alright," deterred Frank, giving her one of his rare smiles. His face changed from a sulky frown to a warm smile immediately. Comparing it to his usual cheeky grin, everyone agreed that smiling made Frank look very handsome.

"I'll dress as an ordinary boy," decided Frank, when little the company had reached the shed.

"Then what's the point of disguising?" asked Pip smugly. "I mean; you are an ordinary boy aren't you?"

"No he's not," Larry disagreed. "Frank's far too smart. He is extra-ordinary, not ordinary."

"But the man doesn't know that," Pip argued. "I…"

"It will be better if I put on a disguise to look like another boy," explained Frank, effectively ending the quarrel. "That man knows how I look like. If I look like another boy, he wouldn't be too suspicious of me, see?" With that said, Frank began to hunt around the shed. He finally produced a blonde wavy wig with eyebrows to match and put it on. He looked round at the others. "How do I look?"

"Different." Pip pointed out the obvious. Frank ignored him.

"You should do something with your eyes," suggested Larry.

"It's too twinkly," agreed Bets. Everyone laughed. Frank looked thoughtful, then brightened up.

"Some shades would do the trick." Zac looked up from the drawer he had been examining. "Would these do?" He pulled out a pair of sunglasses and handed it to his brother.

"It's perfect." Frank put them down on a nearby table and looked around. "Where are the grease paints?"

Fifteen minutes later, Frank was barely recognisable. He had put some colour on his face to make him look more tanned and, with the help of the sunglasses, looked like the very epitome of a surfer dude. Or so he thought. Frans begged to differ.

"For the last time, Franklin, you do _not _look like some 'cool' teenager. Your hair's all wrong."

"Who cares? Being only twenty minutes older does not bless you with a better sense of fashion than me. My taste is impeccable" At the Find-Outer's questioning look, however, he elaborated.

"Frans is twenty minutes older than me, and I'm twenty-four minutes older than Fred. I'm guessing mother got tired… By the way, do you know that Frans was born on the day before both of us?" The others stared at him further. Frank nodded and went on.

"He was born at eleven fifty, and Fred was born on twelve thirty-four the next day. Interesting isn't it? That means that his birthday is on the day before ours. We celebrate it together and share a cake, though." Frank frowned ruefully.

"I always pestered Mother to give us three separate cakes, and buy me two presents, instead of one. Technically, I appeared on one day, and was fully out on the next, making me have two birthdays. Mother disagrees, however. Pity."

Bets spoke up at last. "I don't understand the birthday part," she complained, having calculated and calculated but to no avail. Counting along her fingers, she continued, "If Frans is born at eleven fifty, and Fatty at twelve thirty-one, that leaves Frank at… Let me see…" Everyone sighed. Zac took the girl aside to fully explain the works.

"Frans was fully out at 11.50pm, and Frank, by 12.10am the next day. That's why they are 20 minutes apart. According to Frank, he and Fred were born 24 minutes apart, making Fatty born at 12.34am." Bets smiled and bobbed her head. "I get it at last!" Pip scoffed. To tell the truth, _he _hadn't quite understood it either.

"Right. Now that's over and done with, off to the teashop we go!" sang Frank suddenly, making the others jump. "Are you coming or not?"

"Can we really?" asked Daisy eagerly. "Fatty never lets us when he does this sort of thing."

"He doesn't?" Frank was genuinely surprised. "And he talks of letting you shadow for experience," he mumbled under his breath. Out loud, he said, "Of course you can come along." Frank made a mental note to tell his brother to include his friends on trips more often in the future.


	11. Frank's Adventure

**Chapter 11: Frank's adventure**

When the Find-Outers and Frank reached Mrs Steven's teashop, they saw the suspicious man there, chatting to the waitress they suspected worked hand-in glove with him. Zac had stayed home in favour of studying, and Frans, to look after Fatty. After a long wait, the man finally left.

"Right, I'm going to shadow him now," whispered Frank excitedly. "Watch and learn. Follow at a distance, and if I'm caught, do _not _play the hero and rescue me. You'll only get yourselves in trouble." He then ducked under a pile of crates outside the shop, shielding himself from sight.

When Frank was sure the man would not turn and look back, he slipped out of his hiding place and ran to a nearby wall, pressing himself against it. The man was evidently a suspicious fellow, for he swivelled on his heel and squinted into the shadows, looking for his stalker. It was lucky Frank and the Find-Outers were hiding behind separate walls, or they would have been seen at once. Satisfied, the man turned back and resumed walking once again.

Frank was very swift, following at a distance and ducking into any available spot he could find. Twice, the man had turned back only to be greeted with no one. But alas, the man soon went to a place where nobody had been to before. Though deserted, it was an open space, making it impossible to hide without being seen.

In his spot, Frank panicked. 'What should I do now?' he thought desperately. 'If I follow him, I would get caught. But if I stay put, I'll lose him.' He was in a dilemma.

'I'll just have to risk it,' he decided at last. 'There is a chance that he would not turn around. Besides, it's better than staying here.' Mind made up, Frank ran into the open space, hopping into any shadow he could find.

The Find-Outers were following Frank's example, moving discreetly behind. Now, they stared in horror at Frank's actions.

"What's he doing?" Larry groaned. "Surely he knows he will be caught. Fatty would never do such a thing. Frank really is a dare devil."

"Oh no!" Bets moaned in terror. "We must think of a plan to save him, quick! Frank, you idiot! Whatever shall we do?"

Unfortunately for everyone, Frank _was _caught. It so happened that there was another guy who was about to meet the teashop man. He spotted Frank from behind and immediately pounced on the boy, clutching his collar. The man was big and burly, and there was no way Frank could fight him off. He didn't stand a chance. Behind them, the Find-Outers stared helplessly at poor Frank. They did not know what to do.

"Let me go you brute!" yelled Frank. He thrashed about, trying to get free. The big man did not loosen his hold, however. He looked at Frank maliciously.

"And why should I listen to you? Tell me, boy, why are you following that man there?" The teashop man had turned around and spotted the captured Frank. Grinning evilly, he made his way over to join his friend.

Bets was nearly in tears and biting on her nails so hard that Pip could hear her teeth grinding. He was sure that she would get into a row because of her nails. "Stop that," he hissed, digging her in the ribs. Bets jumped a mile and would have been seen if Daisy did not pull her down in time. They all strained their ears to hear Frank's response. Pip started to creep closer. In the commotion, no one noticed Larry slip away.

"I wasn't following him," Frank's voice drifted over to the Find-Outers. He sounded put-out. "I just came to explore, so there. My friend told me about this place and I thought it sounded interesting. What's wrong with that? You own this place or something?" The men stared at Frank in astonishment. What a rude and fearless boy! Pip mentally cheered Frank on.

While the men gaped at him, Frank noticed the grip on his wrist loosening. Seizing the opportunity, he kicked his captor hard right where it hurts, yanking his wrist away in the process. The burly man let out a yell and fell to his knees, moaning in agony. Daisy stifled a giggle.

The teashop man growled and tried to stop Frank from escaping. All he got for his efforts was a hard punch in the face and a sharp kick in the shin. The boy fled, stepping on Mr Teashop's toes in the process. Frank could fight quite well. He had had some lessons a few years ago.

The two men soon recovered from their pain and chased after Frank. They never reached him as Frank had a head start and was a better runner. Unfortunately, luck was not on Frank's side. Larry came back bearing Buster who was, of course, as delighted as ever to see one of his masters. He pounced on poor Frank, wagging his tail and barking his head off. In his surprise, Frank stumbled and nearly tripped. The men soon caught up to him.

Giving Buster a vicious kick, the fat man boxed Frank's ears while Mr Teashop delivered another blow to his face. A pained yell was heard as Frank's nose broke and started to bleed.

In anger, Frank lashed out a landed a hit on the teashop man's stomach. Grabbing his companion's arm, Frank bit on it as hard as he could. When he released the appendage, the boy was pleased to note that it was bleeding slightly and bruising fast.

The big man countered by twisting Frank's left wrist so hard that a crack was heard. Frank screamed a scream that cut through the air like a knife. It echoed in Bets's heart and the frightened girl whimpered, sniffling and using her brother's sleeve as a hanky. Pip didn't have the heart to push her away. He stared out at the fight and prayed that help would come soon.

The fight went on for a while, with Frank obviously weakening. He could handle one opponent fairly well, but to face two, and both obviously stronger than him, was a nightmare. His luck took a turn for the tide at last, as Buster dashed into the fray, determined to help Frank.

The brave dog rushed in, barking loudly and nipping any bare places he could find. He always knew fighting Mr Goon would come in handy one day! Baring his teeth menacingly at the worn out men, Buster watched in satisfaction as they hurriedly ran away.

Staring at the ground in exhaustion, Frank noticed a cigar lying on the ground where he was first captured. It must have fallen out of the big man's pocket. Picking it up with his uninjured hand, Frank stowed it away in his pocket to examine later. He felt his legs give way and collapsed quite suddenly. The coast clear, the Find-Outers ran over to him at once.

"Are you alright?" asked Daisy anxiously. "You're bruised all over. Your right eye's black and blue."

Frank lay on the ground limply, looking quite battered. He was feeling weak from the fight. Pip chose this moment to examine his sleeve.

"Gosh, Bets!" he said in disgust. "Look what a mess you made of my sleeve! It's all wet! You didn't have to do that!"

"I'm s-sorry!" Bets howled, clutching Frank like she would never let go. "I was s-scared! Oh F-Frank! Are you a-alright?" Pip stared at his sister like she had gone mad. How could anyone burst into tears so easily and so fast?

"What a question!" he scoffed. "Anyone can see he isn't."

That caused Bets to wail louder. Frank sighed. He could feel a headache coming on. How does one deal with a sobbing Bets? Thank goodness Rachel did not cry so easily.

"Don't worry," croaked Frank weakly, his lips suddenly dry. "I'm feeling fine. It was just a small fight. I think I sprained my wrist, though." He held out his bruised left wrist and, with Daisy's help, bound it up tightly in her handkerchief. The pain soon receded to a dull throb.

Frank sat up with much difficulty and took off the fake eyebrows and wig. He noted with relief that the items did not come off during the fight. The eyebrows were no worse for the wear and the wig was only slightly askew.

The blood from his nose was now dripping onto his shirt. Bets gave him her handkerchief to stop the bleeding and Frank took it thankfully, pressing it gingerly to his nose. He stuffed the shades she had picked up into his now-bulging pocket, and prayed that nothing would fall out.

"This is what happens when you risk stuff," Frank told the others. His voice came out funny because of his nose and the handkerchief covering it.

"At least the men didn't knock me out or carry me away. Now I just hope mother won't be too shocked or ask too many questions. Gosh, I feel so tired!" Frank stood up shakily on unsteady legs that soon recovered. He walked slowly home with the others, leaning on Larry. Buster trailed behind.

"Getting Buster was a good idea, Larry," praised Frank when they reached the Trottevilles' residence at last. Larry reddened slightly and looked down, mumbling something about "It was no problem," "Everyone would have done it," and "I just thought of it first."

"What was it that you picked up just now Frank?" piped up Daisy suddenly.

"It was a cigar," he answered. "There might be a message inside or something. We'll find out tomorrow. You four had better go home first. It's getting late. You will get into a row if you're late for dinner."

The five exchanged goodbyes and parted.

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Yay! It's finally updated. Sorry to keep y'all waiting. Hee hee… All your questions have been answered in our profile. We have also replaced the chapters in front that made you confused.

Thanks to sn0zb0z, Christine and 5 Find-Outer Fan for reviewing, especially to 5 Find-Outer Fan for pointing out so many mistakes. Please review on this chapter too!

This is our first attempt on a mystery. So please comment or criticize if the plot goes out of place!

If you think this story might be abandoned sooner or later, you are WRONG! We promise you this story WILL be completed, no matter how long it takes (bags it won't!). Actually, we have the rough copy of our story right till the end.

Yours faithfully,

**table42**


	12. The Mystery of the Peculiar Doctor

Chapter 12: The Peculiar Doctor 

Mrs Trotteville was too worried to be angry with Frank when she saw him. She immediately sent him straight to bed, while Zac fetched the first-aid kit. Fatty was still quite tired, but sat up in shock when he saw Frank's bruised face and sprained wrist. Frank gave his family a sheepish smile by means of explanation, and lay tiredly on his bed. Zac walked in.

"Don't worry, mother, I'll handle the matter," he assured, applying some antiseptic to Frank's cuts. "Frank will be fine. You go on to your committee meeting. Don't let us hold you up!" Frank winced as Zac jabbed at a particularly nasty scrape.

"What happened to you?" his brother asked him reproachfully. "How did you get all these injuries? And your wrist! I should think it's fractured!"

Mrs Trotteville, on the verge of leaving, paused abruptly at the door and turned back.

"Fractured, you say?" she inquired, hurrying back to her son. "Is it really that serious? The wrist doesn't look that bad to me!" Zac smiled wryly.

"His wrist is badly sprained. There would be no need to call the doctor. Give it a few weeks, and it would heal on it's own. But that, young man," Zac finished, cleaning out his brother's last wound with a flourish, "means you are not to attempt any monkey-business, lest you injure it further. Be a good boy and stay in bed."

Frank groaned. There was no room for further protests once Zac had delivered his 'verdict'. Zac knew some first-aid, and his word on all matters healing was Law.

Frank glanced ruefully at his incapacitated wrist. It would appear he would be out of commission for a few days. The boy wondered if Fatty's accomplices were more accomplished than they looked. He watched Zac apply some ointment to his cuts and bind the worst ones with bandages. At length, Frank spoke up when it became clear that Zac would not relent on the 'padding'.

"Good gracious, Zac! That's enough!" he protested, trying futilely to yank his arm away from the determined older brother who was wrapping layer after layer of wadded plaster on his injury. Zac began to protest, but Frank ploughed on doggedly.

"Do you wish for me to look like an ancient Egyptian mummy? I can scarcely bend my arm as it is!" The triplet was beginning to enjoy himself, and decided to milk the situation for all that it was worth.

"Besides, this padding is starting to itch. What happens if I want to shower? Will I have to take it all off? And what would happen if…" Zac started to swell up in righteous indignation reminiscing of Mr Goon. Frank braced himself for the explosion that was sure to come. The twins shook their heads in pity. Their brother certainly had it coming! Frans choked back a grin that was threatening to show itself. Mrs Trotteville decided that now would be a good time to leave for her committee meeting.

"Firstly, this is _not _padding, it is a highly antiseptic and expensive flexible bandage. The miraculous thing about this particular plaster is that it offers protection without compromising comfort, and in addition, is also waterproof. Secondly, this can also be used for…"

Everyone sighed depressingly as Zac launched into a tirade of the quality of that particular bandage. He was as obsessed over medicine as Frank was over art. One by one, the children left. First Rachel, then Randall, and then Frans. At last, Zac calmed down enough to give Frank's bandage a last tweak before packing everything up and leaving. Fatty and Frank were left to recoup.

"Whatever happened to you?" Fatty hissed once the door had snapped shut. Frank grinned in fond memory as he recalled what had happened.

"I got into a fight, and a good one too. It felt good, trashing up those men." Fatty raised an eyebrow at his brother's statement. "I should have thought it was the other way round," he muttered, but waved his hand at Frank to continue. Frank resumed his tale.

"As I was saying, the men beat me up because I got caught following them." Ignoring a snort from the listening boy, he continued, "They were stronger than I gave them credit for, and I would have been severely injured if Buster hadn't chased them away for good. I never did expect the fighting lessons to come in handy. Thank goodness they did."

That finished, Frank shut his eyes and dozed off without waiting for Fatty's reply. Boy, was he worn out! Frank slept all the way until supper, where he was awakened by the Find-Outers coming and going.

The children had popped in to look at the cigar, but left when they saw Frank sleeping. Deciding to let the tired boy rest, they went home to eat their own suppers. The cigar would be examined tomorrow.

-

Supper was served to Frank and Fatty in bed. They spoke in low voices as the rest of the family dined downstairs. Fatty cleared his throat as he began on a long-winded speech.

"You know," he began pompously, "In all my years of shadowing, I was never caught. Not once! I've never ever got into a fight with the person I was following. Whatever did you do to get into this mess?"

"Well, if you have never come to blows before, I can only deduce that you must have been knocked-out before you could even fight back," answered Frank. Fatty was about to say no, it never happened, before stopping short. It _had _happened before, once. Indignant, he went on.

"Look at you! Your nose is nearly broken, your wrist severely sprained, your eye is badly bruised, and multiple cuts are inflicted on your body! They could have killed you! How could you have been so careless? Don't you care what happens to us if you met with a mishap? Mother doesn't show it, but I can tell she's really upset."

It didn't occur to Fatty that Frank did not mean for all these to happen. He was not even listening to his brother's rant.

"Look, I'm well and alive, and that's what matters. There's nothing to worry about. It was because of the fight that I got a clue. This cigar dropped out of one of the men's pockets when they ran away." Frank dug in his trousers for the battered cigar and handed it to his triplet, who examined it with interest.

"I guess the fight did help then," conceded Fatty at last, thoroughly immersed in staring at the cigar. He held it at various angles and squinted at it while holding it to the light with 'utmost profession' before speaking again.

"Have you seen what's inside? I can see a roll of paper in it."

Frank shook his head ruefully. "I haven't. I promised the others to see it together." Changing the subject, he added, "You look much better. You got a fair bit of rest, I suppose."

"I did, and took some medicine too. I'm don't feel hungry; you can have my supper if you like." Fatty set his tray down on the bedside table, and lay down, groaning as he did so. The bed creaked slightly, and Frank withstrained from making a comment about his brother's weight with a great deal of effort. Fatty yanked the bed sheets right up to his neck. Frank shook his head.

"I'm not that hungry either. My share is good enough for me. Did you notice anything strange or out-of-place about the new doctor at all?" he questioned. Fatty shook his head.

"I guess I'm just over reacting then," sighed Frank. But he was wrong. In fact, the new Doctor was a very peculiar person indeed.

-

The next day, Fatty woke up with his whole body aching so badly that he could not sit up on his own. Frans hurriedly got changed for breakfast. Frank was still asleep.

"Are you alright?" Frans asked worriedly. " You look as if you're about to faint!"

"I…I don't feel so well," whispered Fatty, obviously in agony. "I'm aching all over."

"I'm calling Zac and mother," said Frans, exasperated. Everyone crowded in, and breakfast was soon forgotten. In the midst of all the fuss, Frank woke up. He took a look at his moaning triplet, and immediately blamed the peculiar doctor.

Fatty's temperature was taken, and Dr Rainy called. The poor boy was trembling very badly, and had vomited twice in twenty minutes. His temperature was also alarmingly high.

Frank decided to take matters into his own hands. "Mummy, please don't let the new doctor come," he pleaded. "I think he might have something to do with Fred becoming so ill." Mrs Trotteville hesitated. Frederick retched again.

"Very well, I give you my word," she sighed at last. "I suppose that was the reason you were so rude to him the other day. Well, I certainly won't allow him to come back again."

Frank smiled gratefully, and hugged his mother in relief, thanking her all the time. Mrs Trotteville looked surprised. "What was that for?"

"For trusting me, of course!"

Mrs Trotteville smiled at Frank, and covered Fatty with two layers of blankets. She also placed an ice pack on his forehead. Fatty was quiet throughout the talk. He did not feel like talking very much at the moment. He felt tired and dizzy. Zac reached for the medicine Dr Rainy had provided instead of the one the new Doctor prescribed.

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Hope you like this chapter! And if you're wondering, yeah, this story involves plenty of accidents; we seem to like it that way. I think the next chapter won't be posted in quite a while, so I posted this chapter early. We're kinda busy you know… Anyway, thanks for the reviews! Oh yes, we've a new story written by a friend of ours. It's really good. Better than ours, we think! Please read it! It's called the Mystery of the Stolen Books.

**Table42**


	13. Fatty's Condition

Chapter 13: Fatty's condition 

It was quite a struggle for Fatty to sit up to give him his medicine. When he finally managed, with Frans holding his back for support, he threw up the pills the moment he swallowed them. Mrs Trotteville was getting more and more alarmed.

Finally Dr Rainy came, much to everyone's delight and relief. He was grilled intensely by Frank, while Fatty was given a thorough check up.

"Were you busy yesterday Dr Rainy? Why didn't you come? We called for you just before teatime because Fred wasn't feeling too well, but another doctor came instead. He told us you were too busy to come. Was that the truth? What were you busy with? Why…"

Dr Rainy laughed, and looked pointedly at Frank. "Whoa, slow down, boy. Give me time to answer your questions. As a matter of fact, someone _did _call me the day before…" The doctor thought for a while, then elaborated.

"Now I remember. There was a phone call telling me that someone was quite ill, very ill in fact. I had no record of such a patient, but went to the given address anyway. When I reached the place, the maid said that there was no one living there with such a name. Does anyone know a Mister Samuel Aderholt?"

All of them shook their heads. Dr Rainy nodded triumphantly. "I too, had never heard of such a name…"

Mrs Trotteville glanced sharply at one Franklin Jericho Trotteville. The boy wasn't paying attention to the doctor at all, but rather was muttering furiously under his breath.

"This is bad; that man is smarter than I gave him credit for. He got the doc safely out of the way, and had easy access to Fred. Why does he want Fred down and out, anyway? Does Fred know something he shouldn't? What is that man hiding? That means…" mused Frank, obviously talking to himself.

"What are you mumbling about Frank?" asked his mother suspiciously. Frank suddenly realised that everyone was listening. He could have kicked himself for that! Thinking fast, he said that he was just talking about some school essay assignment and excused himself from the room. Frank made his way to the parlour, where he continued to think deeply.

Dr Rainy looked enquiringly at Zac as Frank left. "That boy always has some funny thoughts in his head," Zac said, by means of explanation. "Don't worry." The doctor nodded and went on with Fatty's check up.

"Could I see the medicine that the other doctor gave to him, please?" Dr Rainy asked when he had finished examining his patient. Frans reached for the bottle and handed it to him.

"He had two doses of each yesterday, but we switched it back to the one you gave us today."

The doctor studied the contents of the bottle for a while, before replying slowly. "I don't think this is medicine. I think it's a drug that was intended to worsen his illness."

"Fred's not that ill is he?" asked Frans, alarmed.

"Bed rest," confirmed the doctor. "That's what he needs, plenty of bed rest. No getting out of bed and try not to sit up too often. You'll definitely need a while to recover completely. The boy is very sick, which means if his condition worsens, he would have to be sent to the hospital. It could have happened if more of these pills were taken." Dr Rainy shook the bottle of drugs viciously.

Suddenly, a bump was heard. Everyone turned to see Fatty sprawled out on his bed in a most ungainly fashion. He had passed out. Mrs Trotteville immediately clutched his shoulders and tried to wake him up.

"Frederick, are you all right?" she asked worriedly. "Don't scare me. Wake up!" Mrs Trotteville patted her son's cheeks anxiously, looking as if she was about to faint herself. Dr Rainy just laid Fatty down on his bed and told his family not to disturb him.

"Just wait until he comes round. He'll need the rest anyway. Let him be." And with that, the doctor left, leaving some more medicine for Fatty to take.

Frank rushed upstairs to check on Fatty's condition the moment he was told that his brother had collapsed. Fatty was still unconscious. The other Find Outers had already left him alone to recuperate, and Frans had called Larry and Pip to tell them not to come. He also explained, as best as he could, what had happened to their leader that morning, and had answered multiple questions with the air of a saint.

Frank touched his brother's flushed cheek. It felt very warm. Too warm. The boy sighed. If his mother had been more willing to listen to his suspicions, nothing like this would have happened. He sat beside Fatty and waited for his triplet to come to. He did not wait long, for Fatty woke up a few minutes later. Frank was cheered up immensely by the action. Things might not be as bad as they seem.

The moment Fatty blinked his tired eyes open; he was hit with a fresh wave of nausea and aches. The world swam before him, and two Franks bombarded him with questions. Fatty had to really concentrate to understand; his senses just weren't working. Painfully, he tried to answer his brother's questions one at a time.

"Yes, I'm fine, I feel alive, I don't require assistance, and I can't see, my body aches, I feel dizzy, YOU ARE GIVING ME A HEADACHE!!!"

Frank had the sense to look remotely abashed. Lowering the tone of his voice, he confided, "I have got this feeling that the phoney doctor that came yesterday is somehow connected to that waitress and the two men I fought with. There is some relation; I just can't figure out what."

Fatty had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Wasn't that obvious? Giving a sigh at Frank's poor deduction skills, he answered, "I think so too. How is your wrist and eye?"

"They'll survive. My wrist still hurts, but my eye only hurts when you touch it too roughly. I'm really fine." Frank grinned at his brother, but Fatty did not smile back. He was feeling too tired to move even the slightest muscle. Frank did not tell Fatty that Zac had said that his wrist was not sprained, but in fact fractured slightly. Only the two of them knew, as Frank had pleaded with Zac not to tell anyone.

Zac's plan for life was mapped out along these lines: Go to a good college, become a doctor, make money, get married, settle down, have children. Naturally, he had a lot of knowledge on stuff like bandaging fractured wrists, and caring for poor, innocent souls. Frank thought that that was good enough. He didn't want doctors prodding and pressing his wrist and hurting him for a good lot of nothing. They even got paid for it, too!

"My whole body aches and my stomach's killing me," Fatty complained at length. Frank did not know what to do. The most he could was to sit by his brother and comfort him with words.

"Can I take any painkillers, do you think?" Fatty asked quietly. Frank looked at his triplet, curled up as if hoping the pain would alleviate, and got up to get some with his mother's permission. Fatty took them at once, though rather shakily.

Frank took out a piece of drawing paper, a pencil and a backing and began drawing. He was not the kind of boy who could sit still without doing anything, and drawing was the best thing to do while accompanying Fatty. Fatty watched him draw and thought it was very professional indeed. Frank was drawing a self-portrait, he thought, or himself perhaps. He'll just have to see which way the hair twirled.

Most surprisingly, Frank erased everything on that paper after the outline was finished. It wasn't like Frank to erase his work so easily, but then again, he was a perfectionist when it came to art.

"What did you do that for?" Fatty asked in surprise.

"I hadn't quite got the angle right," Frank replied firmly. "I'm drawing you by the way, as a healthy person to encourage quick recovery. A good picture requires several sacrifices. That outline just wasn't good enough. I had to erase it all. Please don't disturb me unless it's really important. You're supposed to rest, and I really need to concentrate."

With those words, Frank settled down again and resumed drawing, while Fatty watched with interest.

At Pip and Bets's playroom, the four friends were worrying about Fatty. Even their parents had found out what happened and called to inquire about Fatty's general health.

"I hope Fatty's not feeling too awful," Pip confessed, in a sudden bout of belovence. "From what I've heard from Frans, it sounds pretty serious."

Frans told me he passed out quite suddenly," added Larry, adding to the gravity of the situation. "I should have thought old Fatty was getting better." Bets did not say anything. She was quite close to tears.

"I do think they would have let us see him for a little while," grouched Daisy. It was not like her to complain; the situation was that bad.

The four remaining Find Outers had changed: Larry had grown more vocal, Pip had grown kinder, Daisy actually complained, and Bets took to crying at every single little thing. Even Buster was more subdued these days.

"I feel like calling them again, do you think I should?" asked Pip fitfully. "I can't just sit about doing nothing."

"We had better not. Fatty's family are all wrung-out already. Let's not add to their problems," the ever-sensible Daisy demurred. "Why don't we go to the shops and see if we can buy anything to cheer Fatty up?" The suggestion was met with hearty cheers of agreement. They really needed something to do!

"We could try to solve the mystery on our own." Larry chipped in. "I'm sure Fatty would brighten up if it was over and done with. Cheer up Bets! It's not as bad as you think."

The company went down to the shops to buy a little something. However, they soon parted and went separate ways because they _just_ couldn't agree on a gift! Pip thought Fatty would like a book about tricks and pranks, while Daisy preferred a more sensible present like a disguise. Larry wanted to explore a second-hand shop that sold all kinds of funny little items, while Bets was interested in a nearby sweetshop. They agreed to meet up later to regroup.

Pip rushed into the bookstore to see if the book about tricks and pranks was still there. It was, and he bought it immediately. The boy had looked inside and thought it was very useful indeed. Maybe he could borrow it from Fatty one day!

Daisy went to a little store that sold 'disguises for all ages', and browsed through it. She had a lot of fun putting on different kinds of wigs, eyebrows and moustaches, finally settling on a grand-looking beard she thought Fatty would look good in.

Larry strolled into the knick-knack shop leisurely. Ignoring the brand-new items, he headed straight for the second-hand section, and decided an interesting little book about secret codes and spy tricks would be just fine.

Bets stared with delight at the assortment of sweets. The counter was filled with ones she had never seen before, and the shelves around her stretched to the ceiling. Bets had a whale of a time, as the lady selling confectionary liked her immediately, piling the girl with sweets to try. She brought a bag back for Fatty as well.

When they were all done, they met at the agreed spot and compared gifts.

"Jolly good, jolly good," said Larry approvingly. "I'm sure Fatty will be delighted with all these. What should we do now?"

"Let's talk to the waitress," said Bets. The waterworks had stopped, and she was determined not to be a baby, and show the others she was just as good as them. "We could get some information from her about Fatty falling sick. Frank was quite sure she had something to do with it."

"But how?" her brother countered. "We can't just walk straight up to her and start asking her questions like 'did you poison our friend? If so, why?' "

"We will just have to think of something. It might not be a good idea to interview the waitress, though. The man at the teashop would probably smell a rat." There were murmurs of agreement all around. Larry continued.

"Why don't we go and explore the open space where Frank fought with those two men? We might find something there or perhaps follow the direction both men ran towards. That should be easy enough."

The others agreed fervently, as always. The group decided to meet up at Mrs Steven's shop just before tea.

"We'll have tea at the same shop. We might have a slight chance of finding a clue there. Don't forget to tell your mother that you would not be having tea at home!" yelled Larry, and they all parted.


	14. The Exciting Day

**Chapter 14: The exciting day**

Fatty began to feel tired after watching his brother draw for twenty minutes. He soon dozed off, but Frank hardly even noticed! He was too busy drawing and only found out much later when he realised that he had not heard Fatty make any noise for quite a while. Mrs. Trotteville walked in as Frank reached for his pencil sharpener.

"Has your brother come round yet?"

Frank set the wastepaper basket aside as he replied dutifully, "He did mother, but he's sleeping now. He's fine, save a few aches here and there."

Mrs. Trotteville sighed in relief. Things were finally looking up! "That's wonderful. Could you wake your brother up for me, please? I loathe saying this, but his medicine needs to be taken on time. He can sleep again later. I would do it myself, but I have yet another meeting to rush to. Do be a dear and help mother."

With that done, the good lady placed the package of pills on Fatty's dresser and handed the cup of water to a stunned Frank. She kissed both her darling boys goodbye, and left the room hurriedly. Frank made a face as his mother walked out. Why was he always left with the undesirable jobs?

Sighing, the boy set his sketch aside as he shook Fatty's shoulders. "Wake up. You've got to take your medicine."

Fatty refused to budge.

Frank persisted. "C'mon, Fred, wake up! You can always sleep again after you're done."

Fatty groaned, and turned away.

Frank sighed, and pulled his triplet up into a sitting position. He patted Fatty's cheeks forcefully and sat back, waiting for the explosion that was sure to come. Frederick and medicine did not mix, especially if rest was previously denied.

As expected, Fatty flared to life from the deep abyss of sleep. "I've only slept not too long ago! Did you have to wake me up just now? Medicine again? EUGH! "

He reluctantly took the medicine. But as usual, a minute later he was sick again, and Frank had to run for a departing Mrs Trotteville.

His mother, of course, was less than pleased. ("Franklin dear, mother's going to be very late already! It would be rude if I didn't show up on time, don't you agree?") Frank noted with wry amusement that she had not bothered to change her clothing, and had forgotten her purse. Her usual coat was currently in the wash, and the hat was nowhere in sight.

Frank went to fetch the in-house nurse. Rachel, who was with Zac, came too. When they were all gathered beside Fred, Frank took his time to explain the current situation.

"What's the point of Fred taking medicine after medicine if he throws it all up in a minute? There isn't enough time for his body to absorb the proper nutrients, or whatever it is called. I propose we just let Fred rest, and hope his body heals on its own."

Mrs. Trotteville was silent as she slowly processed all this. Zac digested the information too. Rachel stared wide-eyed at the green lump huddled on Fatty's bed. She hadn't known it was as bad as this!

"Do you feel really very awful Frederick?" Mrs Trotteville probably meant to sooth, but her voice came out strained. "If your temperature goes higher than forty degrees, you would have to be sent to the hospital. We can't do anything if the medicine gets regurgitated every time. You'll only get worse."

Zac took his horrified brother's temperature. Much to everyone's dismay, it was higher, although only by a little bit. Frank intervened on Fred's behalf. _He _would have hated to go to a hospital too!

"Mother, couldn't we just try to cool him down a little? If his temperature goes down then we won't have to send Fred to any hospital. It'll worry a lot of people if we do."

His mother agreed instantly; she wasn't too fond of sending her son to a hospital too. Such a lot of hassle, she sighed, and all because of a tainted scone, too. Let this be a lesson to any glutton, Mrs Trotteville thought mentally. Never eat a scone unless you have offered the rest all around.

Fatty was given an ice pack and cool water to drink, while Rachel fussed over him, aiming the fan directly at his shivering face. The windows were opened, and his face, wiped with a damp towel every few minutes. The temperature of the heater was also lowered.

After half an hour of fussing, Mrs Trotteville took Fatty's temperature again. It was just below forty. Thank goodness! Rachel gave her brother a hug and her sweetest smile. Hopefully, Fatty's temperature would not go up again.

Fatty, by now, was feeling all washed out. "I'm terribly dizzy," moaned he, "Could you all leave me alone please? I don't feel too good."

The poor manhandled boy shut his tired eyes and tried desperately to forget his body aches and fall asleep. Mr Trotteville, who had taken leave from work, ruffled Fatty's hair fondly and went out with Zac to discuss something. Randall brought a friend home to play with. Frans sat at his desk to do a bit of studying. Frank began on a new picture.

Fatty was having a hard time trying to sleep. He tossed and turned and moaned and groaned but just could not doze off! In the end, he was sick again. Frank asked if he was all right but he did not answer. Poor Fatty was having a very hard time indeed.

-

After a scrumptious tea, the Find-Outers set off for the open space where the fight had taken place.

"The men went this way," Larry stated, hurrying along the road. Larry always lead the team when Fatty was out of commission. The rest of the Find Outers clattered noisily after him.

At last, Larry stopped a fork in the road. He turned around and frowned. Everyone had trailed obediently after him. Everyone except Pip, that is.

"Hurry up, Pip," Larry ordered impatiently. "What a time you are taking!" Pip looked up from the sandy path where he was tying his laces.

"Coming!" he hollered, and raced after his friends.

"Right," said Larry importantly, when everyone was paying attention to him. "The road stops here. Where do we go next?"

"Fatty would have known if he was here," whimpered Bets, not quite sure of this place.

"Shut up Bets, Fatty's not here," muttered Pip. He glanced over his shoulder to see something, but Larry did not know what.

"Let's take this path," Daisy cut in. "It seems more likely than the other." The Find Outers instantly understood why Daisy chose it. Someone had dropped a handkerchief halfway, and although buried in the dirt, it was still visible.

"Good work, Daisy," praised Larry, pleased. "These men are not as smart as I thought. They were overjoyed that they had gotten rid of Fatty, perhaps, that they neglected to watch out about other detectives like us. Well, if they think we are a pushover, they have another thought coming!"

The four walked cautiously to the hanky, careful not to tread too heavily and leave footprints. Bets was still quite frightened, and latched onto Daisy's sleeve tightly. The little girl had never felt safe when Fatty was not around.

After a while, Bets spotted a little house in the distance. The children went to it and found that it was locked.

"Looks like no one's home," remarked Pip, after ringing the doorbell for the umpteenth time. "I'm sure there must be some valuable stuff in there."

"But we're not even sure that this house is connected to the mystery," Daisy pointed out. "What makes you think so?"

"Daisy's right, Pip." Larry reprimanded. "Don't make wild assumptions you can't back up. Hey, what's this?" he exclaimed a moment later, pointing to door. It had a tiny crack at the bottom, and the crack was stuffed full with something.

"It's a thin pile of papers!" Pip gasped, and immediately pulled them out. Larry was about to say 'Use your gloves', but stopped short with a groan. Everyone bent forwards, examining the papers with interest. There had been a thin stack halfway under the door, as if waiting to be collected by someone.

"We'll take it home," Larry decided. But before anyone could take a further look, a loud, hollow cough was heard. The children froze in terror.

"Run!" hissed Larry, and they fled. How they ran! Nothing could make them go faster. When all of them were hot and tired from running, they stopped and collapsed into a heap on the grass, panting like mad dogs on a summer day. Pip stuffed the papers up his jersey, and hoped nothing had fallen out on his mad dash.

"I think we're safe here," Daisy breathed, straining her ears for any sign of noise.

"That was close," Larry agreed. "I hope nobody saw us, or we'll be in big trouble."

"I think we'd better go home," suggested Pip. "It's getting late, and I need to be back in time for supper."

Everyone stood up to go back. Unfortunately, a few mis-turns later made them realise that they were going in circles. The children gazed dismally around at the unfamiliar surroundings, and it seemed that the trees were mocking their predicament. Bets started to cry.

"I want to go home!" the girl wailed. She had enough excitement today to last her a lifetime!

This was when Pip came forwards, grinning for all he was worth. "I don't see anything to be pleased about," grumbled Larry sourly. "We are hopelessly lost."

"Aha! But we aren't!" said Pip mischievously, hopping up and down in excitement. "You see, I marked the path we took as we came along. All we have to do is to follow my trail, and we would be home in no time!"

Larry gaped at Pip, unable to comprehend what his senses had just fed him. Pip beamed back, and started bouncing on the balls of his feet. Daisy cheered in the background, and Bets dried her tears.

"Good for you, Pip old fellow!" raved Larry, when he had recovered. "I suppose that's why you were always lagging behind? A good job done, old buddy! We owe you one!"

The Find Outers turned back, and began following the trail of pebbles, leaves and twigs. Every few minutes the trail would stop, as Pip ran out of materials, but it would start up again a few seconds later. At last, everyone reached the fork in the road.

"Whew! What a day!" Larry exhaled. "We had better go now, or we'll get into a dreadful row at home. See you all at Pip's playroom tomorrow!"

Right, I know Fatty's illness is rather exaggerated. But rest assured, he will get better! Oh! We just want to tell you that we might be starting on a Harry Potter story soon, when we're coping well with Clemenceau high and MOR. If we do, we'd really like to have some support from you faithful reviewers!

Table42


	15. The Trouble With Too Many Children

**Chapter 15: The trouble with too many children**

Larry telephoned Fatty to inform him of the group's progress the moment he reached home. The phone rang shrilly for a few heartbeats before it was answered.

"Hello Frank how's Fatty?" Larry asked hurriedly, rather excited.

"I'm Frans," corrected the boy on the other end of the line with a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry Frans." Larry was surprised. They had all been focused on Frank and Fatty lately that Frans was quite forgotten! "You three sure sound alike. How's Fatty?"

"He was fine until late afternoon. Then he was nearly sent to hospital. Now the whole house is in chaos and Mother's worried sick. And to top it all off, Zac studied a _little_ too much again and now has a slight temperature and a migraine. But other than those, everything's just fine!" Frans ended sarcastically. Why was he the only 'normal' boy in this abnormal family? Larry only wanted to hear about Fatty, though.

"Fatty was almost sent to hospital? You are not pulling my leg, are you?" Hearing a snort from Frans, Larry concluded that he was telling the truth. "When can we see him? How is he now?"

"Same old, same old. He's still as weak as ever." Cutting off Larry's protest from the other end, Frans continued, "I think you all should be able to come over tomorrow. You wouldn't be able to speak to him, however. We apologise for the inconvenience caused, but our patient really needs his rest. Don't you people have better things to do than run over here twenty-four seven, anyway?"

Frans considered slamming the phone back in its cradle now, but reflected that it was 'improper' to do so. Sighing at the 'wasted grand moment', he apologised.

"I'm sorry. I really needed to vent. All day long, running up and down... Anyway, yes, Fred was quite sick a couple of times. He used up all the paper bags in the house, and I had to run down for more…" Frans's voice crackled over the phone.

For once, Larry was at a lost for words. "What about Frank?" he finally asked, astonished. "Surely he could have helped?"

Frans heaved a big sigh. "Mother wanted the monkey out of the way and peacefully resting in bed, I suppose. You forget: his wrist incapacitates himself. Running errands would be awkward."

There was a long silence after that, and finally, Larry settled on a timid, "All right. We'll come over tomorrow." Frans made a small noise of acknowledgement at the back of his throat.

"We bought some gifts and good news for him too," Larry hastily added. "Please tell him that." The line went dead.

"Thank you…" Larry muttered to the silent, crackling phone, and replaced it in its cradle. Daisy began to ask him questions and Larry answered them, rather stunned. He seemed to be in a world of his own. Pip was telephoned next, and they were understandably upset. That was nothing new. Mrs Hilton noticed their gloominess, though, and questioned Bets about it.

"Fatty's very ill mother. He… he was almost sent to hospital this afternoon," stuttered the girl, resisting the urge to cry. "He must have been poisoned very badly…"

-

The day after next, Fatty's temperature had gone down a little, but Zac, who had had a slight fever two days before, was still sick and studying despite his mother's protests. He had enough of missing his study time, and was far behind schedule. Besides, his fever and headache was all because of the stress of 'relaxing' and not studying, wasn't it?

The Find Outers came just after tea to see Fatty, bearing their little gifts with them. Fatty was pleased and flattered.

"Thanks, I like them a lot," he said gratefully, and was even more excited when Larry showed him the sheets of paper they had found. Sadly, Fatty was not allowed to discuss the mystery, and Frank had to do it instead.

Frank set his now-coloured drawing aside, and was about to speak when he noticed Fatty's downcast look. Feeling sorry for his brother, the boy improvised on the spot.

"Tell you what, we'll delay the discussion until Fred's better. It wouldn't be fair to Fred if we didn't." The others agreed with Frank's suggestion, though Pip was a little disappointed that they would have to wait longer. Fatty was immensely cheered up at his brother's words and friend's agreement. Just then, Randall came in.

"Hello!" he greeted cheerfully, noticing that they had company. "Nice of you to drop in to see Fred, you are really faithful friends, aren't you? Frank, could you memorise this bit for me and copy it down here please? I find it very irritating, flipping the pages here and there," Randall finished, handing his literature book over.

"Sure," Frank replied, looking at the foot-long passage.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" asked Bets in surprise.

"Well, that's because my brother here has an intelligence quotient level of a hundred and seventy!" Randall boasted, smiling at Frank indulgently like a proud parent would. "He has a good memory and just has to read the passage once through to memorise it all. Dad made us all test our IQ level you see, because of Frank. Needless to say, he was pleased at the results."

"Wow!" exclaimed Pip in admiration. And everyone stared at Frank. Annoyed, Frank glared at Randall furiously.

"You shouldn't have said that! You know I hate it!" he huffed angrily, pushing the paper roughly back to his sibling.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry! Do it for me please?" he asked. Frank snatched the paper back, nearly tearing it, and hastily scribbled the words down messily.

"There," said Frank, passing back the paper back to Randall after he was done. "I shall never know why you all bother to work so hard."

Frank was very clever. He could read a textbook once, process the information, and get top of form for that subject. That is, if he even bothered to read the textbook. Everything came so easily to him that he could not understand why his brothers bothered to work so hard. He would never understand the pride of doing well in a test after a whole night of hard work, as he never needed to be diligent at all. That was a fault of him being too smart to be true.

There were also times where his brain worked faster than he wanted to and got him all confused. That frustrated Frank very much. It hardly happened now, as he was older and knew how to get himself out of that fix, but it was a great annoyance to Frank when he was younger.

Frank frowned as he thought of a few moments when he got so worked up about it and lost his temper, breaking several valuable things at his aunt's and receiving a good many spankings. That was one reason he hated being praised about being so smart; he wished that he could be normal like the others. Well… Only at times.

"Right, so what do we do now?" asked Larry, breaking Frank's train of thought.

"What about a game of scrabble?" Daisy suggested.

"I'll get Frans to join us!" Bets volunteered, hopping up and dashing madly out of the room. Larry was about to call her back, but she had vanished before he could open his mouth.

The girl soon came back bearing Frans, who, to Larry, looked about as cheerful than he had sounded last night. Frans's eyes were tired, and his posture not as straight as it once was. His voice had a hint of resentment in it when he spoke, and his expression was sullen. Larry could tell he had been moping in a corner all day. Frans quickly brightened up though – how could one not when in the company of Bets?

"All right," sighed Pip, when Frans had agreed to play. "But I bet you'll win Frans, you're always at the top of your form for language, aren't you? Frank said so."

"Yes, but when it comes to fast thinking games, Frank beats me at it."

"I'm not playing," exclaimed Frank suddenly. He was sick and frustrated of the admiring and awed looks the others kept throwing him. Taking up a new sheet of paper, Frank began to draw some abstract graffiti, turning his back to the others and facing a sympathetic Fatty.

-

An hour had passed when Fatty suddenly exclaimed, "Frank, get me a bag will you?" Startled, Frank looked up from his work of art. The game of scrabble had already ended ages ago, and Larry, Daisy, Pip and Bets had all left.

Frank opened a nearby drawer and yanked out a paper bag, handing it to his brother. Fatty grabbed it like a lifeline and sat up, vomiting violently into it. Worried, Frank felt Fatty's forehead and took his temperature. It had gone up again, no surprise there. Feeling a strong sense of dé ja vu, Frank went to call his mother with a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

As Fatty had been unable to take any medicine had been recovering by himself, it was big trouble when he got worse. This was bad news indeed. Sighing inwardly to herself, Mrs Trotteville rushed in to attend to her boy.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked with concern, wiping away Fatty's sweat with a damp towel. Easing Fatty into a sitting position, she gave him a glass of milk to drink. Imagine her surprise when Fatty shook his head and pushed the cup away!

"Don't feel well," he mumbled shortly. Mrs. Trotteville nodded and placed the cup on his bedside table.

"How's Zac?" Fatty asked after a while. Mrs Trotteville sighed at the mention of her eldest.

"He's still doing his work stubbornly, the silly boy. I do hope his asthma doesn't act up. The last time it did, we had to rush him to the hospital and he was already blue in the face by then. Zac's temperature is slowing going up and if he falls too ill, I shall have to take care of the both of you."

"Oh," said Fatty. He could not think of anything else to say.

"Your father and I are currently deciding if we should send you to the hospital, Frederick," his mother continued. "I know we brought that discussion up yesterday, but you will really be better looked after there, and the staff will know what to do if anything crops up. Would you please reconsider?"

Alarmed at that idea, Fatty shook his head vigorously until he felt a headache coming on. Who would want to stay in a hospital? There was no place like home, after all. He refused to lie down again until his mother had assured him that they would respect his decision to be left at home.

Fatty leaned back on the headboard, but realised that his stomach hurt even more when he did so. Hence, he was given a pillow for his back and another for his head. Poor Fatty soon felt so weak that he simply _had_ to lie down, but when he did, he began to feel funny all over and sat up again in a hurry. Frank noticed his restlessness and stared at him awkwardly.

"Err…Do you need anything?" he asked helplessly. Fatty shook his head uncomfortably and tried to lie down again, giving off a soft moan of pain as he did so. Frank suddenly got up from his chair. He had finished his second picture.


	16. Trouble at Home

**Chapter 16: Trouble at home**

"Where are you going?" Frans asked Frank in surprise. With him were the Find Outers, back from eating their lunch.

"Rollerblading in the basement," Frank replied firmly. "I have been sitting here the whole morning and I need a break." With that, the boy walked out.

"He rollerblades?" Pip asked in surprise when Frank had disappeared from view.

"Of course he does." Frans answered. "Frank's good at it too. He can do all kinds of tricks beautifully. He learnt them from books by himself. Frank's a natural athlete. He is the master of sports in school."

Frans began counting off his fingers. "Swimming, badminton, tennis, basketball, baseball, cross-country, soccer… You name it; he aces it! Oh! Gymnastics too. Frank has a private coach that he shares with three other students in school. Dad has to pay for it all, of course. But Frank's good at it - state level, so Dad doesn't mind."

"I thought gymnastics were for girls," Pip exclaimed in astonishment. Frans stared at him then laughed.

"What's so funny?" Pip demanded, a little putout.

"You must have thought Frank was a bit of a sissy then! Actually it's also a men's sport, and it's much harder for men. You'll have to start at a young age to be good. Frank started at the age of four and a half. So did we, but we weren't as interested at it, so we dropped out."

"Ohhh," pronounced Bets slowly. "Well, Rachel's an ice skater isn't she? Isn't Randall one?"

"Yes," sighed Frans, "but not anymore. He dropped out. What a pity. Talent gone to waste like that."

"Why did he quit?"

"The silly boy actually believed he looked girly." Everyone laughed.

"What does Randall do now, then?" Pip cut in.

"He does fencing and plays the violin."

"Fencing? What does he do with the fence then?" asked Bets innocently. Everyone roared.

"It has nothing to do with a fence, Bets." Frans responded. "It's a sport where you learn to fight with a special kind of sword."

"But how can you all do so many things?" Pip inquired. He felt amazed at the Trotteville family. The Hiltons and Daykins looked like pigs next to them!

"We can well afford them. Our schedules are a little tight though, Frank's especially. He plays soccer, tennis, basketball, and roller blades for fun and takes gymnastics and running seriously. Swimming is in the school curriculum."

By then, the children had reached the basement, and Frans reached out to push the door open. It just so happened that when the door swung open, Frank was shirtless and about to change into a white loose shirt instead of his neatly ironed one.

Frank looked startled when he heard gasps coming from the door. He hurriedly yanked his shirt down over his head and promptly went red with embarrassment.

"You should have knocked!" he told Frans angrily.

"Were you going to change your shorts too?"

"Don't be an idiot!" Frank retorted as he sat down and put his skates on. They were competitive ones and had no brakes.

"Anyway, it didn't matter if I did not knock. You have got nothing to be ashamed of: your physic is the best of us three…" Before Frans could finish his sentence, Frank took his other shirt and flung it at him.

"Could we skate too?" Daisy looked wistful as she stared at Frank's black skates. Frank nodded after a moment's hesitation.

"You can borrow Rachel's, Bets." Frank pointed to a small, purple pair in a glass cupboard. "Pip can use Randall's. Larry and Daisy, use Frans's and Fred's skates. Frans will have to forgo skating, though."

Fortunately, Frans was not in the mood for sports and decided to watch the others while doing a bit of schoolwork.

Frank taught the Find Outers very well indeed, and all of them were able to skate after a short while. Frank even showed them a few simple tricks, like skating on one wheel and turning two whole rounds swiftly. He soon did some of the harder ones, which made the others look at him in awe. Frank never did it again.

"Look," he told them. "Anyone can do it if they practice. You all have learnt loads so far. That's good isn't it?" The lunch bell rang.

Larry, Daisy, Pip and Bets were going to have lunch with the Trottevilles. Frank pestered them to wash up quickly as he leisurely took off his skates.

"Hurry up, we're late," he urged again and again, with a cheeky grin on his face.

"Since when have you been punctual?" Frans asked. Frank stuck his tongue out at him.

At lunch, only Fatty was absent. Everyone settled down and enjoyed their lunch thoroughly, all except Zac, who wasn't feeling well. He was wearing an unusually thick sweater as he ate rather slowly, hardly saying a word, quite unlike his usual self.

"Is there any lunch for Frederick, mother? I'll take it up for him." Frank could not believe he actually offered to do that! He was feeling quite cheerful all of a sudden. Mrs Trotteville smiled in approval and gave him a bowl of chicken porridge. Frank took it up when he had finished his meal.

Fatty was fast asleep when Frank entered the room. The boy decided to leave the tray on Fatty's bedside table, where it was within easy reach. Frederick hardly ever managed to get enough rest and Frank thought it would be better to let his brother sleep properly for once. He took his brother's portrait, signed his name on it, and placed it on the dresser, right where Fatty could see it.

"How's your wrist Frank?" Frans inquired when the Find Outers, minus Fatty and Dog, had left.

"Fine, much better," Frank replied off-handedly.

"You know, Mother is going to have a heart attack sooner or later. First Fred fell sick, and now Zac is falling ill too! Worse, brother dearest refuses to rest at all! Next thing you know, Mother will be the sick one. Could we help to ease her load somehow?"

"Well, well, well," Frans drawled irritatingly, "I didn't think you would be so soft hearted, Frank. Fancy you thinking of such a thing. All right then, we will go and ask her."

So they went, which made Mrs Trotteville extremely pleased. She kissed the both of them and said:

"You could help me by watching Frederick and making sure he doesn't start to shiver or shake. Could you also make Zac a drink of hot lemon and honey, please? It would help his cold. I can't make him leave his worktable. He kept saying that he had wasted a lot of time and needed to catch up. I just don't know why such a sweet, obedient boy turned so stubborn all of a sudden!"

"I expect he is just anxious about doing well." Frans had felt like that before. Frank did not say anything. He had never worked hard in his life. Well, sports did not count, because he enjoyed it, and it was not 'hard work' for him.

Frans and Frank made the drink brought it up to Zac, deciding to watch Fatty later together. They tried to ask his to rest, after seeing the mountain of books, but to no avail. A quarrel soon started.

"Would you leave me alone, please?" Zac cried out impatiently. He tugged at his hair in frustration as he attempted to learn Latin, revise Physics, and chase his brothers away at the same time.

"I really need to finish my work. I am so far behind schedule, it's shocking! I will rest once I'm finished."

"How much do you have left?" Frank smelled a rat. Zac jabbed hastily at the pile of books and research papers on his study table with a forefinger, muttering a string of foreign words as he did so.

Suddenly, the boy sprung up from his chair and rushed to the bookshelf. Taking out a heavy volume on Arithmetic, Zac started flipping through it frantically, trying desperately to find the formula he needed.

"Three lost days of revision and I have already forgotten everything!" wailed he.

"Why don't you get some rest first, and then continue?" Frank persisted in his job.

"I would have had the time to rest if I had not gone out yesterday. Just leave me alone will you?"

Zac was suddenly seized by a coughing fit and quickly drank some of the drink his two brothers had made for him. Abandoning Science for now, Zac pulled out a worn book on French verbs and began to memorise them hastily.

"Do you know that Mother is really worried? She is afraid that you will fall sick. You're not helping matters if you remain so stubborn." Frank was losing his temper, and fast. The house had enough sick people in it already!

"Mother asked you to go out so that you could relax a bit. She cared for you but you, on the other hand, are really making things difficult for her. Some considerate Head Boy you are!"

"Are you blaming me?" Zac sounded furious.

"Of course I am blaming you. I thought Head Boys were supposed to be considerate, but it seems that I was wrong… Why don't you just…"

"Keep quiet! I want some peace! Go away!" Zac had flown off the handle at last. Frans quickly herded his triplet out of the room like a timid shepherd. The door slammed shut on the pair of them.

"Let him be, he doesn't look too well. I expect he'll get some rest later when he feels like it." Frans was surprisingly understanding of the situation.

"I very much doubt it. Zac is more likely to die studying than to do such a menial task as rest. He's so stupid!"

Frans was shocked at Frank's outburst.

"How could you say that of Zac? He is our older brother! Do you not remember how he comforted us when we were punished countless times? He cared! How could you call him that? Zac is definitely not stupid! He has been top of his form since first year! Unlike you."

"Sorry, I'll take it back." Frank muttered sullenly. He felt a bit regretful, and wondered why he had said such a thing in the first place. Besides, Frans was one to preach! Look who was the sulky one yesterday!

When Frank and Frans finally went back to check on Zac, they found him fast asleep on his desk.

"I told you!" Frans exclaimed superiorly. "Come on, we'll drag him back to his bed."

Surprisingly, Zac did not protest when he was helped. He fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow. Zac was exhausted. It had been tiring, doing all that revision!

Their mother was pleased when she heard that Zac was finally resting. She looked much more cheerful, as if a whole load had been lifted from her back. Frank and Frans received two pounds each for their help. They accepted it graciously.


	17. Problems at Work

**Chapter 17: Problems at work**

Mr Trotteville was in a bad mood when he came home that night.

"One day of leave, and already problems crop up!" the man fumed. "The security spied two unidentified men entering the premises, but none of them were found in the book records. I would like to know how they managed to sneak in! To top it all off, some workers are demanding an increase in salary. The financial problems are bad enough as it is! They should be thankful I did not dock their pay!"

Mr Trotteville was a shrewd businessman who owned two companies. It was no wonder his children themselves were quite rich! Unfortunately, that meant that his work took him to distant places, and he hardly ever got to see his children.

Frank crept cautiously down the staircase when he was sure the storm had passed. His father had finished venting, and was now eating a bowl of noodles quite peacefully. Frank plopped into a seat beside his father, and casually helped himself to the food. Mr Trotteville smiled at his favourite son and asked:

"How's it going?"

Frank showed him the two pictures he drew. Mr Trotteville looked it over with a critical eye.

"Shade more," was his interested remark. Frank smiled.

"How are Zachary and Frederick, by the way?" Mr Trotteville finally inquired. He had been worrying over it all day, and was anxious to hear the latest news.

"Zac fell asleep on his worktable but Fred's coping really well. They are all right, really. Is there anything I can help you with, though?"

Frank was used to solving some of the problems his father had at work, even when he was staying with his aunt for a whole nine years. The problems were not too hard; the difficult part was getting his father to open up to him.

The father in question hesitated for a good ten minutes. Finally deciding to confide in his son, the man spoke.

"There is a rumour going around that someone is out to destroy my smaller company. I have no idea why I am telling you this – it's not like you would be able to do anything. However, I am determined to find out who started this story, and how true it actually is. Every rumour has a source and basis."

"Oh," blinked a startled Frank. That was certainly a problem! "I guess that's really quite difficult. You could find out the tedious way, which would be to ask each and every worker and trace it back, or the risky way, which would be announcing it over the stereo system, and hoping the culprit would come forward. Or…"

Mr Trotteville caught sight of his son's wrist as he waved it madly around, gesturing to an invisible audience.

"How is your wrist?"

Frank grinned, but hid the body part under the dinner table.

"Fine! Very fine indeed. You are the third person who asked me this question today, did you know?"

A silence fell. Frank cleared his throat.

"I did a bit of in-line skating today."

Mr Trotteville did not want to hear about Frank's rollerblading, though.

"Tell me, my boy, whom did you fight with?"

Frank looked surprised at his father's sudden interest in shady characters. He wondered why his father was suddenly so interested in the topic…

"I think it would be better if you didn't know, Father. It is not that much of a deal now. The damage is already done."

"I want to know anyway."

"Two men?"

Mr Trotteville frowned heavily. "I want a good, proper description Franklin," he said firmly. "You are my son. I am not the type who allows people to injure my children and get away with it so easily. I won't stand for this!"

Frank was therefore forced to spill the beans. And he gave a very good description indeed…

"Did you manage to catch the thin man's name, by any chance?" Mr Trotteville queried when Frank had finished. The boy shook his head negatively.

"Strange…" Mr Trotteville muttered to himself. Thin, crease lines appeared on his forehead as he frowned down at his empty bowl. The man knitted his brows together in deep thought, obviously finding the situation suspicious.

"What? What?" Frank was bouncing up and down in his seat with excitement. He was not one for dramatic suspense!

"That man sounds vaguely familiar. He might be a very outrageous man I fired a few months ago..."

"Golly! I'll say!"

Frank gave such a loud exclamation that his father jumped. "Wait a minute, I'll get the map."

"What map?" Mr Trotteville demanded in surprise. But Frank was already gone. He had shot up to his room like a speeding bullet, grabbed the map, and sprinted down again like a national athlete on steroids.

"Look," the boy gasped, panting heavily. He thrust the bit of paper into his father's face. "Do you recognise this place?"

Frank pointed to a symbol of a building with a red circle drawn around it. Mr Trotteville squinted at location for a moment before looking at his son in astonishment.

"Why, that's my company, of course! Didn't you know? Where did you get this map, anyway?"

Frank ignored his father in favour of talking to himself.

"Good gracious!" mumbled he. "The target is my father's company! Gosh! Now we really _are _on to something!"

"What are you babbling talking about, child?" Mr Trotteville snapped a tad impatiently. Frank was in too much shock to answer. Those men were taking revenge on his father!

"Father, I'm going to ask you some questions about work now. Please answer them as truthfully and honestly as possible. I need your help on this matter."

"Whatever is happening?" Mr Trotteville forced a laugh. "You have gone so mysterious all of a sudden!"

Mr Trotteville soon regretted his decision of discussing this sensitive matter with his son. The boy took heart in interrogating his father fiercely, grilling him mercilessly like a well-cooked steak roasting on a barbecue grill. Frank asked a good many prying questions, and his father got more suspicious than ever.

"Franklin Trotteville, what on earth is going on? There something you are not telling me, and I hate being left in the dark."

"I will shed light on the matter in a while, I promise. I cannot say anything now, I might be wrong. Until then, please promise me that you will be careful, and watch out for that man, Mr Finn, you fired."

Dazed, Mr Trotteville nodded slowly. Frank bounced ecstatically back to his room in the greatest delight, feeling that this day had certainly been productive.

'Right,' he thought. 'Half of the mystery solved. Now to decode these messages…'

Frank soon realised that he had spoken too soon. The code was obviously an invented one, as it was not found in any of the codebooks around the house at all. From what he could see, it looked complicated, too.

Frank frowned. Fatty was the detective here, not him! Deciding to decode the papers later, the boy set off for a walk around the house, pondering over their progress in the mystery as he did so.

Frank was so deep in thought that he did not see Zac walk out from the kitchen, his nose buried in a thick book. They both collided into each other, and had the 'pleasure' of getting their breath bumped right out of them.

"Oomph!"

Frank soon got up, gingerly rubbing his sore behind. A few feet away, Zac mimicked his brother's actions, hair falling all over his face.

"Are you all right?" they both asked at the same time. There was a tense silence, before laughter filled the air. It felt good to get their grievances out of their system!

"I was just thinking…" Frank disappeared into his room. Looking at his sick triplet, it suddenly dawned on the boy that the fake doctor was none other that Mr Finn!

Frank had remembered his small, cunning grey eyes, and had finally linked it to the man he had fought with. Those eyes were too sly to be true! It had to be him! The man had obviously worn layers of clothes to make him fatter and had added a moustache. Frank groaned mentally. Why hadn't he noticed it before?

"Fred, I have solved the mystery!" Frank whooped when Fatty had awoken.

"So quickly, and all by yourself too?" Fatty looked-- and sounded disbelieving. Frank frowned indignantly at his brother's skeptism.

"I did too," he said defensively. "With a bit of Father's help, that is."

Frank then proceeded to explain his reasoning and theory. Fatty's eyes widened dramatically in horror when he heard the situation. He could not believe the target was their Father and his company!

"Now we have to decode these messages," finished Frank with an air of finality, dumping the map in front of his dismayed sibling.

"Hopefully, we could guess their plan and gain a clue by doing it."

Frank's bright eyes twinkled like a flashlight, and he shot Fatty a triumphant grin. Fatty grimaced painfully.

"You know," he began, "We would soon be out of business if you carry on doing all the work like this. Clever clogs." Frank beamed and posed, throwing fat kisses to his brother.

"It was a bit of luck that Dad's company was targeted." Frank solemnly concluded at last. Fatty gasped, and narrowed his eyes at Frank's wording. He was duly ignored.

"Dad's cooperation with me helped too, of course. I think that man, Mr Finn, poisoned you because he did not want you solving _this _mystery. How he must have gloated when he realised that you were his ex-boss's son! I bet he was rubbing his hands in glee when he saw you sick in bed. In that sense, it was a bonus to him, but a giveaway to us." Fatty bobbed his head furiously in agreement. He soon developed a headache.

Frank soon went to notify the others of a meeting the next day at the Trotteville residence, and Fatty was left to ponder. He had mixed feelings on this subject: Half of him wanted it over and done with, while the other half demanded to solve the mystery himself.

Shutting his eyes, the boy sighed heavily. Then suddenly, he remembered the dream he had a long time ago. How peculiar, the dream and mystery was almost the same!

Fatty concentrated hard, trying to recall all the details. The man in his dream had mentioned something about burning a building down. Was that their plan, then?

Frank walked in before Fatty could mentally elaborate on the matter.

"Done!" The boy looked unnaturally cheerful. "I say; it's getting late. You had better get some rest right away."

Fatty had no room to argue just then, as Mrs. Trotteville had marched in and firmly taken Frank's side. Groaning, Fatty went to sleep, but with a smile on his face.

Everyone cheered up a good bit that night, and it was all because of Frank and his father! Tomorrow will be a very exciting day for the Find-Outers indeed.


	18. The Second Clue

**Chapter 18: The second clue**

Past:

The Find Outers (minus Fatty) met in the Hilton's playroom the day after snooping. They discussed the happenings at the 'deserted' house, and examined the papers they had found.

"Well! This is our second clue!" Pip was exhilarated. "I wonder why someone would be silly enough to stick something so valuable out under a door. Those men must be potty!"

"I expect they thought no one else would come," murmured Bets thoughtfully, when the children were silent.

Everyone peered over Pip's shoulder to take a better look at the papers. The first page was filled with funny codes, and the second, with numbered lines that looked like instructions for something planned. There was a marked map with a cross too.

"I say! What if the men find out the papers are gone?" asked Daisy suddenly, with a bit of alarm. "Surely they'll sense something wrong?"

"I expect they will just think it got blown away or something," Larry replied carelessly. "That certainly seems likely. They don't seem to care much, or they wouldn't leave it under a door."

The Find Outers gave a go at solving the codes, but they could not crack it. After an hour, Daisy looked at her watch and rose, beckoning her brother with her.

"We've got to go now Pip, Bets, it's almost tea time!" Daisy felt as dismayed as she looked. They hadn't decoded the papers yet! Blow tea!

"We'll meet later at Fatty's if possible. I'll pass these papers to Frank on our way home. Goodbye!" Larry reached for the papers and bid his friends farewell.

"Wait!" Bets scrambled up hastily from where she had been sitting. "Please leave the papers here a little longer. I still want to have a go at solving it."

"Alright." Larry suddenly remembered the brainwaves Bets had on several occasions, and handed the papers over. Everyone ignored Pip, who had scowled and protested that little Bets 'couldn't possibly do anything'.

"We'll see you later!" The Daykins's chorused, and they all went for tea.

Pip and Bets had a bit of trouble getting away after teatime. Their mother was not pleased at having her children out all day long.

"Really, Phillip," she frowned, and Pip scowled at the use of his full name, "I don't approve of you running over to Frederick's every hour of every day! The boy is ill, for heaven's sake, do let him rest!"

Pip started to protest. "But mother…"

His mother cut him off abruptly. "No, Phillip, I insist. Stay at home for once, and spend some time with me instead."

That was that. Blow mothers! Bets ran for the telephone to notify Larry they couldn't leave home. Larry was sympathetic. He was experiencing the same thing at home too. They agreed to meet at Fatty's the day after instead, and Frans was duly informed of the changes.

Present:

The Find-Outers and Dog were settled down in the triplet's room to discuss their progress in the mystery. Frank came too, uninvited.

"Has the mystery been solved yet?" asked Bets excitedly. Fatty shook his head regretfully.

"Almost, but here's the difficult part," he replied, placing the map and the cigar carefully on his bed. "Look, this map is all coded and we would only be able to understand it if we decode it, which won't be easy at all. From what I can deduce, it's a self-invented code. I've looked through all the code books in the house, including the one you bought, Larry. It's not found there."

"What about the cigar?" asked Pip impatiently.

"I saved it for the last. We'll look at it now."

Fatty took up the cigar and carefully proceeded to pull the message out and unroll it. This is what it said:

**Cigarettes**

**Lighters**

Kerosene 

**String (Lots)**

**Working Clothes (Spoof)**

**Plan B will be used. **

**Remember to wear rubber shoes.**

"I half expected them to write in invisible ink," Larry said incredulously.

"So did I," agreed Frank, speaking up for the first time. "There might be one. I'll go and get a hot iron." The Find-Outers looked at each other in excitement when he left.

"Frank did a good bit of detecting didn't he?" Bets broke the silence. "I don't think I would have put two and two together to realize it was Mr Trotteville's company that is in trouble."

Pip opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by a horrible gagging sound, followed by loud, continuous retching. Everyone immediately looked at Fatty, but Fatty was already dozing off, oblivious to his surroundings. It couldn't have been him.

Frank soon stuck his head in.

"Zac's not feeling well again," he said, by means of explanation. "Can the ironing wait? I am needed." The boy disappeared without waiting for an answer. Pip huffed and crossed his arms. Everybody looked dismayed. It would appear the mystery was put on hold… again.

Frank, together with Frans, made their way back to Zac's room to look after him. Mrs Trotteville was conveniently attending another Society meeting, and had left hours ago. Zac looked awful. His face had turned a sickly sort of green.

Zac carefully set his Biology textbook down, and reached for a medicine bottle. He downed two large doses of painkillers without a second thought and leaned back in his chair, groaning softly.

Frank frowned and tut-tutted. "You shouldn't take so many drugs, or you'll become immune to it," he lectured, waggling a finger at his oldest brother. "I wish mother hadn't given you any to start with." Zac levelled his sibling with a poisonous but pathetic look. It had absolutely no effect whatsoever.

Working together, the two triplets pulled Zac out of his chair, and forced him to lie down in bed. It was not much work, for they were stronger, and Zac was ill.

"Some way to treat a patient," the invalid groaned weakly, half buried under a smothering pile of quilts. "What happened to tender, loving care? Clearly, your bedside manner needs improvement. This is no way to lead me onto a path of recovery. I should sue you."

Frank looked at Frans and grinned. The delirious, sarcastic Zac was coming out! Rising magnificently to the occasion, he replied, "Right," turned on his heel, and stuck a pose. It involved the crossing of arms at shoulder height.

Frans rolled his eyes. "What an anticlimax," he muttered. "And here I was, all ready to make some popcorn."

"Hey!" Frank was indignant. "I am not some tool for amusement purposes!" Catching another roll of the eyes, he added, "And don't look at me like that! Drama belongs to the house of Fred! I'm not good at it! Go look elsewhere!"

Zac groaned for the hundredth time, and slumped back on his pillows, creating a most enormous crater. Frans wished he could just commit suicide. Or bang Frank's head against the wall. Or both.

As if reading Frans's thoughts, Frank narrowed his eyes dangerously and squinted at his brother through partially closed lids. Frans scowled back, planting his hands firmly on his hips and refusing to budge an inch. He would never back down from a challenge!

In the end, it was Zac who put an end to the potential quarrel. "EVERYBODY OUT!" he roared, and chuckled to see the triplets shoot each other a last heated glare, before scuttling out like frightened little mice. Sighing, he finally shut his eyes, and took a long-awaited nap.

Once outside, Frans and swept by Frank and determinedly headed for the study. Frank too, ignored his brother and went to fetch the iron.

Back inside Fatty's room, a perfect babel of voices could be heard. It made such a racket; Frank could hear it from 10 feet away. Inside, everybody had grown bored and had launched into a spirited discussion of the mystery eagerly.

"You cannot assume Mr Finn was the same man that poisoned our scones, Larry," Bets recited solemnly in a grave voice. Pip resisted the urge to laugh. "Even Mr Trotteville wasn't quite sure he was the man. He is not the only person born with grey eyes!"

"True," fidgeted Larry impatiently. "But the rolled-up message confirms that it was him. Look, working clothes! That must involve workers of some sort, which would lead us back to Mr Trotteville's company."

"But it could mean any company…" Bets argued back. The others nodded, realising what Bets meant. They could have been wrong after all! Frank soon entered, and shot them all an irritated look.

"Do not doubt my impeccable judgement. You'll soon see that I'm right."

Frank plugged the iron into a nearby switch, and waited for it to warm up. Meanwhile, he went to get some sheets, as he was sure his mother would not appreciate her son ironing on her floorboards. Soon, everything was ready. Everyone held their breath as Frank slowly ran the hot iron over the sheet of paper they had found.

Something did appear!

Frank quickly read the message, and shot the others a triumphant look. "I knew it!" He whooped, causing Fatty to wake up with a start. "Look what it says!"

The children craned their necks, and peered closely at the paper. Frank continued giving a running documentary. "This is the right message, I'm sure of it. Most people would assume that the previous message was correct and would not bother to check this one out."

"Plan A used instead," Daisy read out. "Needed equipment in paper. Your copy is under door. Why, what does this all mean?" Fatty looked mystified too.

Frank groaned at their questioning faces. "How much plainer can this all get? Must I explain everything in black and white?" Calming down at the disapproving look Fatty threw him, Frank decided to change the topic, and throw in his two-cents worth.

"This is absolutely stupid! Childish too!"

"But why?" asked Larry, bewildered. "I mean, I thought they were smart to put it in invisible ink."

Frank fumed silently. Would he have no peace? "See this stack of papers," he snapped at last, jabbing at the bundle Pip had brought. "There are two pages of underlined words. Judging from the number of weird characters, let's assume they're Plan A and B. Why do I think it's stupid? I'll tell you. Number one. Once I find these weird characters _are_ Plan A and B, I would be able to decode the messages. Number two. Why on earth should they give two plans if they said Plan B would be used in the first place? Obviously there is some secret. Number three…"

Frank stopped short in his words when he saw the sea of confused faces staring dumbly up at him. He was relieved, however, when Fatty's face brightened up, and he offered to explain everything Frank had said in simpler words. He _did _have a question, though.

"You know Frank, I _do_ understand what you're talking about. But the thing is, if they only had one plan, they would not have bothered to write 'Plan B will be used', as it would have been quite obvious."

Frank looked thoughtful, and reconsidered his points.

"That's true. But the Plan A and B part is still a dead giveaway. Look. I assume this is Plan A because the third and fifth characters are the same."

"So that means this character stands for A!" concluded Pip joyfully.

"Brilliant observation, Pip, good work," Frank shot sarcastically. Pip looked offended. "So now we know that these letters are P. L. A. N, right?"

"Right!" the Find Outers chorused excitedly.

"Then this must be B," Frank continued, pointing at a spiky-looking squiggle.

"Right!" The affirmative was louder this time.

"So all you have to do is convert the same characters to their respective alphabets, and we would have a rough idea what the words are!"

"Right!" The Find Outers were now getting into the spirit of things. They liked simple choruses.

"After which, we would only have to guess the vowels, and fill in the consonants. It's just like a game of hangman, only no one knows the answer."

"And the mystery is solved? That's fast." Bets was surprised.

"It really depends what the messages say. What I still find funny is why they were so careless with a masterpiece like that, very suspicious. After all, the code must have taken ages to create. All right! Get to work, all of you. I've done enough and I'm out of here!" Frank got up to do his gym exercises (without the use of a left wrist), and everyone settled down to work.


	19. Unintelligible Hangman

**Chapter 19: Unintelligible Hangman**

Frank came back while the children were still in the middle of their game of 'hangman'. He was wincing, and clutching his left wrist painfully with his right hand. Frans saw that and groaned.

"You knew you were injured, and still went to exercise? Honestly! Isn't that the very reason you missed your training? Come on, I'll take you to Zac."

Frank helplessly tried to protest. "It's all right, really. I'm fine. Ouch! Don't touch my wrist! I couldn't help it. I was afraid I would lose my stamina. I sort of got caught up with my exercises and forgot my wrist was injured and put a little pressure on it. Ow! Careful!"

"Forgot? How could you forget with all these heavy, bulky bandages all over it? It's moments like these when I wish you would put in as much effort in your schoolwork as in your gym training."

"For the hundredth time, I don't need to put in effort for my studies! It's not important!" At this, Frans gave up. Glaring at Frank, he helped his brother to Zac's room, leaving four confused children behind.

"Well," Pip finally spoke, "I guess that means they have made up."

"Zac!" Frans called out, and barged straight into his elder brother's room without giving so much of a knock. Zac turned around from his study table stacked with piles of books and frowned, catching sight of Frank's mangled wrist at once.

"And how did you hurt it this time?" He snapped tiredly. "Got into another fight?" Nobody laughed at his poor attempt of a joke.

"No," replied Frans before Frank could open his mouth. "The idiot did his gym training and promptly forgot about his wrist."

Zac gave a strangled moan and covered his face with his hands, dragging it down in frustration and making a face as he did so. Couldn't he have some peace for once? Frans grinned at Zac's actions, but Frank was in too much pain to even crack a smile.

"You go back Frans, I'll take care of Frank." Zac breathed in and out slowly, trying to remain patient. Frans noticed the warning signals, and promptly left the room.

"Sit on my bed," Zac ordered. He then placed a thick pillow on Frank's lap and gently placed the wrist-to-be-examined on it, taking off the bandage as he did so.

"This is going to hurt," he warned. Frank's whole body immediately became stiff in anticipation. Zac rolled his eyes.

"Loosen up. It can't be that bad." Frank tried, but soon went back to his tense self. When the bandage was taken off, Frank's wrist did appear sprained and twisted indeed.

"Here goes nothing," Zac murmured, holding his breath. Wincing, he gave Frank's wrist an experimental prod. Frank hissed and bit his lower lip in pain. It did hurt!

"I've never seen you so terrified before, ever since you were ten," Zac teased.

"I'm not terrified," Frank argued weakly.

"Of course you're not," Zac sarcastically drawled, and jabbed at Frank's wrist again. Frank valiantly tried to hold back a muffled expletive, but failed. Zac looked up, looking sombre.

"I think you'll have to go to a proper doctor, Frank. You completely ruined your wrist. It would take ages to recover by itself now." He took up a fresh piece of bandage and wrapped it tightly round Frank's wrist, shaking his head all the time. When the deed was done, Frank finally loosened up and calmed down.

"I don't need a doctor; it feels much better already."

"Nonsense. Nobody wants a crooked wrist. It'll affect your training, for one."

Frank sighed. Zac's tone broke no argument. He had no choice; he would just have to bear with it.

Back in the triplet's room, the Find-Outers were still struggling with the puzzle.

"We need Frank!" Pip griped, frustrated. "Of all the things we had to do, this is definitely the hardest!"

"We haven't managed to figure a single letter out yet!" Larry agreed heatedly. "This just doesn't make any sense!" Frans stared at the paper.

"Let me take a look," he said. The others were more than pleased when he said that. Frans silently peered at the maps, then at the scribbles done by the children for a couple of minutes.

"Well?" asked Daisy excitedly.

"Not bad!" Frans tried to be cheerful. "You're progressing fine! You just need more time, that's all. Look…" He pointed at a word. "This word is nearly done. All you have to do is try to substitute letters for symbols one by one. This could be a 'T'…"

"I want Mother!" wailed Bets, and _nearly _burst into tears. "She might be able to help!"

"Don't be silly Bets," Pip ground out in disgust. "You know very well our parents do not get involved in mysteries."

"I know that," Bets defended. "I'm not an idiot. But if we said it was a game we found and there were no answers, Mother might…"

By then, Frank had walked in and heard the conversation.

"Bets, you do know that if 'Mother' succeeds, she'll read the message, don't you?" This time, Bets _did _burst into tears at his mocking tone. Frans glared angrily at Frank, and Daisy could see that there was going to be another quarrel between the two brothers. She hurriedly spoke.

"How's your wrist Frank? I see you have a new bandage on. Does it feel better?"

Eagerly, Frank launched into a tirade of his many miseries.

"I'm going to the hospital later to have a proper cast set over it with lots of discounts: Free prodding and pressing of my wrist, with no extra charge for the pain given. Not to mention, I might meet up with an old friend, the X-ray, complete with a free bout of nagging from mother. Thanks to Zac, I now await loads of freebies…"

"Oh, do be quiet!" Frans barked in annoyance. "It serves you right. Consider it a punishment for your disgustingly rude behaviour."

"I am _so_ not rude!" Frank huffed, sounding rather American. He made to walk out, but Larry halted him with a question.

"Wait a minute," he called, "Did you say you were going to the hospital? When will that be?"

"Dad will send me there when he comes home. And that will be any minute. Wish me bad luck! Do expect the worst! You _will_ attend my funeral, won't you?" Frank rolled his eyes and stormed out. He was back a moment later.

"How's the game going on, by the way?"

"Some game this is," Larry complained. "The only word we discovered is 'the'!"

Frank looked surprised. "What? After so long?"

"Yes Frank, we are blessed with oodles and oodles of patience, unlike a certain impatient someone so luckily bestowed with an IQ of 170." Frans was clearly in no mood for fun and laughter. Frank frowned at him and sat down with the others.

"This isn't going to be easy," he warned. "It involves a lot of guess work and logical thinking, on top of immense patience. And I'm not one for using my brains for such long periods of time."

Hearing that, Frans snorted, and remarked, "I won't be surprised if your IQ disappears entirely one day from lack of use. I bet it has gone down already."

Frank shrugged. To be honest, he didn't really care. "So what? I don't use brains for studying, anyway, so it's useless to have my IQ so high up. Anyway, I'll just go on with this and ignore you." Frank gave his brother his trademarked charming smile that he used to attract girls, make enemies, and irritate brothers. Frans glared at him yet again, and felt his blood pressure rise. Frank took no notice and studied the map carefully.

Within half an hour, Frank had found 20 other words, with the Find-Outers and Frans assisting him. Fatty, to his great delight, had found 6 more by himself, bringing the grand total up to 27 discovered words. The vowels were quickly filled in for the remaining words, and Frank stood up to leave.

"We'll finish it tomorrow," he decided. "I can't bear to think anymore. Besides, I hear Dad in the driveway. He came home early because of me."

"Yes, Frank is his beloved son," Frans told everybody, with a sour face. "Everyone can see that. He treats us equally of course, but Frank is always spending time with him. Apparently, they bond well because Dad used to be rather cheeky at school too." Upon hearing that, Frank shot his prim-and-proper brother a smug smile.

"Goodbye; it's getting late and we have to go home too." Pip pulled a reluctant Bets up, and everyone exchanged goodbyes. Fatty received a hug from Bets, and everyone went home in a somewhat good mood.


	20. More Trouble and Pain

**Chapter 20: More trouble and pain**

Everyone gathered extra early at Fatty's the next day. It had been a spur of the moment decision, no doubt influenced by the excellent weather and the excitement of their progress in the mystery. The group bumped into Rachel, just back from ice-skating, with her hair all bundled up and skates slung over a shoulder. She was wearing a sports jacket and tights, and a knee-length skirt made of some white, floaty material was loosely tied around her waist. Everyone agreed she looked very sweet.

Frank, however, was another matter altogether. He prowled the house moodily, and was liable to snap at anyone who came within ten feet of him. The trip to the hospital obviously did not go well, and his wrist was feeling very sorry for itself indeed. The doctors had jabbed it and prodded it, and one had even kindly given him a harsh massage in that area. Frank's lips nearly bled from the biting, and he was now left wearing a horrible cast made of plaster and fibreglass, which stretched all the way from his knuckles to his elbow. What a pain!

Naturally, the cast had come with a sling for support, but Frank, as obstinate as he was, had stubbornly taken it off under the pretext of fashion before health. His wrist was really properly broken this time, and the boy regretted that little bit of training to no end. Of course, Frans and his 'I told you so' attitude did not help matters any.

Fatty was of course, still in bed with a mild discomfort in his stomach. His temperature had gone down, though, and his vomiting had stopped completely. Mrs Trotteville was as pleased as punch, but she couldn't beat Zac's cheerful rendition of 'Joy to the World', as he tramped up and down the drafty corridors, absolutely mad with delight at more study-time for himself. Zac knew he was working too hard, but he was really serious about getting to the best college money could offer, and vowed to get in through a scholarship.

As usual, the Find-Outers settled in the triplet's bedroom, and continued solving the codes. Mrs Trotteville had gone out with her friends, to celebrate. Everyone pointedly ignored Zac's singing as he marched past, and from time to time, notes of 'Joy to the World, The family's well. Now I can have some peace!' drifted up to them. Frank grinned. Zac really was a pleasure to listen to, and his rendition of the song was absolutely hilarious. It tickled them to bits.

"Did your father scold you for exercising, Frank?" Bets asked suddenly, obviously referring to Frank's wrist. Frank frowned.

"No," he growled, "But mother did. She always scolds me, and only me. Not once has she reprimanded the others. It just isn't fair. I mean, Frederick is kind of cheeky too, isn't he? She's obviously biased."

Frank subsided, hurt, but Frans took up the subject instead.

"Well," he began, "If you tried to be less rough and rowdy, and cared more about others around you, you would never earn yourself a single word of reproof from Mother. You know that. No one else but you intentionally causes headaches and trouble just for the fun of it."

Frank just sulked. "I'm sick of you, Frans, always telling me what to do," he burst out suddenly. "I bet I could have come out first if I wanted instead of you. Will that give me the right to boss you around, then? Yes, I'm referring to the time we were born and no, I won't stop going on about it until you stop being so bossy. Besides, you're hardly older than me. You have no right." Frank shot his triplet a venomous glare. Fatty hurriedly spoke up.

"Things are not as bad as you make them out to be, Frank," he said soothingly, trying to pacify his brother. "My guess is that Mother punishes you because your actions are too smart and intelligent for her to understand. It's all right, really, and there's no use getting worked up over a small matter like this. Mother doesn't hate you, and never will. Now come on and finish deciphering that map."

At that, Frank gave a watery smile and reluctantly did as he was told. Frans grouchily kept silent, but fumed inwardly that Frank listened to his younger brother, and not his older one. He didn't understand that although they had not lived together, Fatty and Frank shared a much closer bond than the tentative one Frank held with him. Though Fatty loved boasting and showing off, he was not as bossy as Frans was, and Frank had no qualms listening to the occasional order from his younger sibling.

Unfortunately, the peace didn't last. Everybody jumped when Frans snapped suddenly, "Will you please put that sling on? The doctors didn't give it to you for display, you know!"

For the past few minutes, Frank had been fidgeting impatiently as he tried to solve a particularly long coded word. His cast, (black with bright orange signatures scrawled over it, courtesy of Rachel,) had twitched every time he moved, and it really was a distracting eyesore. Frans had been sitting opposite Frank, and was positive he would go mad if he saw that cast jerk up and down one more time.

Frank took no notice of Frans's commands, though, and stared sullenly down at the map instead. Fatty was sure he could hear the gears turning in his brother's head. Sure enough, Frank soon looked up, a cheeky smile adorning his face. He beamed sunnily at the other Find-Outers, and opened his destructive mouth.

"Hey, come and do some solving. If you think I'm going to do it all, you are seriously mistaken. Shut your mouths; don't stare at us like that. I know you people secretly enjoy Frans slaving away with his protests, but that's not important at the moment."

Fatty stared at his triplet, his mouth agape. Oh, please let it not go where he thought it would go! He dearly wished he could give Frank a good jab in the ribs, but Frank was too far away. Frans was another matter altogether. He was glaring at Frank, as if daring him to continue. Frank, being Frank, took up the challenge.

"Frans is such a goody-two-shoes, isn't he? He could win first prize at a nagging competition hands down. Everyone would be in tears! Yes, I can just imagine him standing there now, with huge, nerdy glasses that went out of fashion years ago, and sprouting some silly, ridiculous speech about saving the Earth… And of course, I would cheer him on, and wave hideous pink pompoms in his face."

A silence fell. Nobody dared to breathe. Frank had certainly crossed the line this time! In a sudden rush of hot anger, Frans stalked towards his brother like a predator and cornered him, twisting Frank's irritating cast painfully to one side.

'That would teach you to mock me!'

Watching from the sidelines, Daisy gasped in horror, and Bets uttered a theatrical scream. Frans suddenly froze and dropped the cast, his rational mind taking over. What did he just do? Everyone's hearts leapt, as Frank screamed in pain. White-hot needles were burning into his wrist! The agony! Frank fell to his knees, and howled to the heavens above. He cradled the broken appendage protectively, and glared venomously up at the one he called his brother.

Frans panicked, and immediately apologised madly. "Frank, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, really I didn't," he frantically babbled incoherently, staring in shock at the mangled wrist. "It's completely my fault, I let my anger get the better of me. Please, please forgive me. I'm awfully sorry; I didn't mean it! I just completely lost control of myself. I'm such an idiot! Are you all right? I'm so sorry!" Frank didn't answer. He was slumped against the wall, clenching his jaws to keep the screams in. If looks could kill, though, Frans would be dead. Fatty's silence spoke volumes.

"Does it hurt very bad?" Frans choked out at last, with a catch in his voice. Fatty snorted derisively behind him, as if questioning that last statement. Wasn't it obvious enough? Frans just felt worse and worse, as each second ticked by. He wished with all his heart that Frank would pull through, and even promised himself never to bait or nag his younger brother ever again, if he came out looking no worse for the wear. Truly, guilt worked wonders.

Fatty was the first to speak. "Well, nothing will get done if we sit and do nothing!" he announced briskly, and promptly directed Larry and Pip to help a groaning Frank to his rather messy bed.

As expected, Frank refused help and hobbled over by himself, wheezing and gasping in short, quick breaths. His wrist felt properly dislocated now, and the bandage seemed to be holding it in the wrong place. He finally reached his bed, and collapsed gratefully onto it. The pain seemed bad enough to paralyse his whole body! Seeing that, Frans urgently ran up to Zac's room and called him down to help. Needless to say, the doctor-to-be was not pleased. Frans tried to explain that the cause for interruption was entirely his own fault, but Zac did not listen.

"Here I actually thought I was free!" he sniffled angrily, and stomped to the triplets' room to check on Frank.

"Go to the twin's room or the sitting room with your friends, Frans, and stay there! I don't want any of you coming back!" Zac roared, the moment he reached Frank's room. The Find-Outers looked startled, and Fatty got up to protest. Zac cut him off effectively. "I'm going to be in big trouble when mother comes home, and I don't want any of you to cause any more trouble for me! No arguments. Go!"

Frans started guiltily at Zac's glare, and hastily shooed everyone out. They fled to the twins' room in complete silence. Fatty hopped out too, and shut the door lightly behind him. Zac leaned wearily against it, and sneezed. "I shouldn't have rejoiced! Complete waste of oxygen!" he grumbled, and turned his attention to Frank.

Frank had gone white, and was curled up into a ball on his bed. His wrist looked horrible, and the cast had gone all crooked. Zac approached him slowly, and tried to offer words of comfort and advice.

"Breathe deeply," he commanded, though gently. "And try to relax. Everything will be fine. Now, take this painkiller, and lie down here for a couple of minutes. I'll come back to check on you later."

Zac made to go, but Frank shot his good arm out and yanked him back. Zac looked annoyed, then worried. "No? Fine, I'll stay, but the pain can't be that bad! Take it like a man!" He flung a thick rug over the boy, and wiped the cold sweat from his brother's face. Frank felt better ten minutes later, but found that he still couldn't move his wrist.

"I do hope visits to the hospital won't become a daily occurrence, Frank," Zac frowned, and made a disapproving noise with his tongue. "What did you do to yourself this time, anyway?"

"Frans yanked my wrist," Frank spat out weakly, disgust etched on his face. Then it dawned on Zac, no wonder Frans looked so guilty. Oh well, he would just have to face the music when Mother came home.

As expected, Mrs Trotteville was not a happy camper when she heard the news. Frans was scolded very badly, and grounded for a month. Zac was scolded too, with his special privileges taken away for a week, including pocket money. Mr Trotteville took it upon himself to reprimand his sons as well. What made Frans even guiltier was that Zac got a harsher scolding and punishment than him. Zac would definitely be angry with him, he thought.

Their mother called in a specialist to check on Frank, who confirmed that there was no need for Frank to have his cast changed, and moved Frank wrist into the right position with special tools. Mrs Trotteville banned Frank from doing any more things that day, and he was sent to bed to rest, the mystery delayed yet again. Frans felt all the more worse.

Frank strangely didn't protest. He felt quite sick with pain, and did not feel well at all. Zac too, had come down with a bad cold. Everything had gone back to square one, with the exception of Fatty's condition. Frans himself wasn't in the mood for anything, and the Find-Outers pushed their work aside and called the twins to play cards with them. While they played, Frans read guiltily in a corner, and Frank slept fitfully. Zac spent his time sneezing and sniffling non-stop. It soon tired him out, and he was left in a very bad mood indeed.

Deciding to let Frank, Fatty and Zac rest, the Find-Outers left. The twins went with them.


	21. Frank's Misery

**Frank's true misery**

The next morning, Frank was better, save the slight ache in his wrist. He didn't speak to Frans at all, and ignored all his apologies.

At the table, Frank had Zac to cut up his food for him and pour syrup on his pancakes. He even needed help to scoop the bacon and eggs onto his plate. Frank was so furious at his uselessness that he took off his sling, which he felt was getting in the way and flung it on the floor of the dining room. Mrs. Trotteville looked at him in disgust.

"Will you please pick that up Franklin? It's supposed to be supporting your wrist, not lie on the floor. Don't behave in such a spoilt manner and do as you are told," she said sternly.

Mr. Trotteville did not say anything, unfortunately for Frank, but his triplet brother did.

"Mother, Frank's really frustrated. Just let him alone for a bit. He'll…"

"Shut up! I'm sick of you Frans, always pestering me, yanking my wrist. You've no idea how much it hurt! Any harder and my hand would have just come off! You think I'm grateful to you for defending me do you? Well, I'm not! This is my very last word I will say to you and I mean it! I'LL NEVER TALK TO YOU AGAIN! I'M SICK OF YOU! SICK OF YOU FOR TEASING ME WHEN WE WERE AT AUNT"S! SICK OF YOUR MOCKING! SICK OF YOUR OH SO PERFECT BRAINS! YOU, IN MY CONCIENCE, ARE NOT MY BROTHER!!!" Frank got up, kicked his chair aside towards Frans and stomped away, snatching up the piece of cloth on the floor as he went.

Everyone stared at each other in silence. Frans looked terribly upset at being yelled at by Frank in such a manner. Zac broke the silence.

"Let's just finish our meal. I'm sure Fred's feeling better today and I think I'll take them all out for a treat. I'll break today and forget my books and try and help Frank make up with you again Frans, it's all right. Frank didn't mean it. Though goodness knows why he's in such a temper. Cool down everyone. Yes, I'll take you two out too. Is that all right mother? If Fred's temperature is normal and Frank cools down, I'll take them and the Hilton and Daykin children out to lunch somewhere. I've got enough on me," he said. Mrs. Trotteville nodded and smiled wryly. Zac returned the smile and got up to clear his plate.

Mrs. Trotteville looked at her husband.

"I really couldn't do anything without Zachary," she commented. "He's such a great help." Mr. Trotteville nodded in agreement. Mrs. Trotteville looked at Frans downcast expression.

"Francis, it's all right, you just let Frank come down for a bit. He's just upset about his wrist. I know it's a lot of trouble having a broken limb. Cheer up all right?" said Mrs. Trotteville. Frans didn't look any better.

"But mother, I really am sorry! Frank made me fed up and I got really furious. I know it's my fault now. He just won't forgive me."

"Francis Trotteville, Frank will forgive you some time. I promise. Try to forget about it and avoid him for a bit." Frans nodded soberly and walked away.

Once again, the solving was canceled. The children didn't really mind for they thought they needed a huge break from all the mind-boggling codes.

As Fatty's temperature was back to normal and he was feeling a lot better, Zac decided to take them out to a not-so-exquisite restaurant, though it was still rather expensive. At first Frank refused to go, mainly because Frans was going too, but after the begging from the Find-Outers, he obliged.

"How are you going to afford all the food Zac?" asked Bets excitedly, clinging on to him arm. Rachel was doing the same to his other arm. Zac looked at the little girl and grinned.

"I've got a hundred pounds in my pocket especially for today we could go and shop a while after eating. I should have enough," he replied. He was immediately answered by gasps and shouts.

"One hundred pounds! How on earth did you get so much?" yelled Pip. Frank slammed his healthy hand over Pip's mouth and Zac looked at him disapprovingly.

"Sorry," said Pip. "I shouldn't have yelled."

"But Zac, how could you have got so much? I mean; I've only got seven pounds with me!" exclaimed Fatty.

"I've been saving up ever since you mentioned your friends when we were staying at our Aunt's, which was the beginning of last year. I thought I'd take you out for a treat. I've still got plenty at home. I'm saving those in my bank account. And I, unlike you Frederick, don't spend so much money all at once unless it's for something special, like this."

Fatty frowned. Zac looked at him and slapped him on his back.

"Hey, cheer up boy, I didn't mean it," said Zac, grinning. "Here we are, we'll park our bicycles here. I wonder how you managed to cycle with one hand Frank, you must teach me. It's awfully hot today. Put on your cap, especially you, Frank. It's about a hundred meters walk from here."

"How do you know all these," asked Daisy in surprise. "You've hardly lived here for a month!"

"Brains, Daisy. I used the map of course. You'll have to tell me where you want to go later. I don't know what's good and what's not." They nodded.

"Why do you ask Frank to wear his cap and not your other siblings Zac?" questioned Larry. Frank looked rather angry at that remark; he looked as if he was about to pull off his cap.

"Don't ask," he growled at Larry, who immediately guessed that Frank had some illness that made him sensitive to the heat.

"Right," said Zac, who was starting to see a quarrel between them. "It's there, look. I heard the food's good. Come on! Cheer up all of you!" Everyone couldn't help smiling then. A treat to a restaurant! How grand was that! Straightening their clothes, they marched smartly to the restaurant and a waitress showed them to a reserved table.

Looking at the menu, everyone's mouth simply mouth watered.

"We hardly ever get to eat anything as good as these. Just feast your eyes on the pictures! They're good enough already," said Pip. Everyone agreed fervently. Immediately after the food was ordered, a plate of garlic bread was placed in front of them. Frank had had some difficulty choosing his food for he was afraid he would have a hard time eating with one hand. Zac promised to help him cut the steak for him.

Zac looked at Frank. He thought Frank looked rather flushed and immediately felt his forehead. Frank pushed his hand away.

"If you want to do it please, not in front of them," he whispered fiercely. Zac gave him an apologetic look.

"Are you all right?"

Frank shrugged off that gesture and felt himself all over. He was feeling all right. It wasn't a long time in the sun anyway. It didn't really matter. His Aunt wasn't waiting at home to haunt him anymore.

"Hey! Answer me will you?" persisted Zac loudly.

"I would. But after that I'll sneak on you and tell all kinds of tales about you at school so that the girls will go after you and squeal at your handsome face more than ever. Will that humiliate you enough? Because that's practically what you're doing to me now," said Frank loudly enough for almost everyone around their table to hear. Some teenage girls immediately stared at Zac and whispered to each other about how 'cute' he was. Zac glared at Frank, going red himself. Frank grinned cheekily at him.

"You got what you deserved," he said. Zac said nothing and sat quietly, possibly thinking of some form of revenge, until the food came one by one. Everyone chatted happily, except the fact that there were still people staring at poor Zac and Frank and Frans spoke to everyone but each other. Frank and Fatty were in a hilarious mood and when they joint their brains for a joke everyone but them exploded into helpless fits of laughter, which made everyone around them else stare even more. Zac had to quieten them down continuously. Bets laughed so much she choked on her food. Zac saved her. After the enjoyable meal, Zac paid the bill. Some girls and the Find-Outers eyed him closely when he pulled out a hundred dollar bill.

"Where do you want to go now? Any recommendations from any of you? As I said, I don't know this place very well," said Zac as he climbed onto his navy blue bicycle.

"There're a few shops not far away, but I don't find them interesting. There's also a fair in the next town. I read it in the papers today," suggested Larry.

"I think we'll let the twins choose. I owed them an outing," said Zac. The twins smiled gratefully.

"We don't mind the fair. It ought to be rather fun," said Randall. Rachel bobbed her head up and down in agreement.

"The fair it is!" confirmed Zac. Everyone cheered and raced off to the fair. When they were almost there, Fatty began to slow down and pant uneasily. Zac stopped everyone and Fatty climbed out of his bicycle. Frank went to help Fatty.

"Are you all right?" asked Frank. Fatty walked slowly to a small drain and bent his head over it, placing both hands on his stomach, still supported by Frank. After a moment, he gagged and threw up his lunch. Frank pulled him to a shade and made him sit down while Frans and Larry arranged the bicycles properly.

"Look," said Zac, pulling out some more money. Take this, Larry. Go to the fair first all of you, except Frank. I need your help. No protests from any of you. We'll be there shortly. Do you mind Frank?"

"No," answered Frank. Zac smiled.

"All right. Go now; we'll meet you later. Have fun!" he exclaimed, waving them away quickly. He turned back to Fatty and tended to him.

"Fast way of getting them out of the way Zac," said Frank, grinning.

"Nah, a boy like you would have thought of better ways I suppose," he said. He felt Fatty's forehead. Good, no fever.

"How are you feeling? Do you want to go home and rest? Fatty shook his head slowly.

"I'm fine, I just need to lie down for a while." Zac nodded and helped him lie on the bench he was sitting on.

"You must be feeling pretty bad huh?" said Frank. "I've suffered worse though…"

**-Flashback-**

The school bell sounded and everyone rushed out of the classroom, eager to go home. Everyone, but an eight-year-old Franklin.

"How did you do in the math test Frank?" asked Frans cheerfully "I lost one mark; careless of me. I ought to have checked a few more times…" Frank shoved his triplet brother away. He hadn't done well; Frans knew that. Frans was simply mocking him indirectly.

Frans rang the bell of their Aunt's home. Auntie Felicity, they called her, smiled at Frans and led them in.

"And how did you do for your test, you two?" she asked. Frans readily handed her his paper. His aunt smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Good, you topped your class again! I'll buy you and ice cream when your big brother comes home. You can go and do whatever you want now. Go on." Aunt watched fondly as Francis ran off happily to the boys' shared room. She narrowed her eyes to Frank, who was trembling before her towering figure. She took the paper from Frank's small hand and looked at it, frowning.

"And what did I tell you last time?" she questioned.

"I must do better then Frans because I'm supposed to be smarter or I'll get punished," stuttered Frank. "But I was sick that day, and I had a fever. My teacher let me lie down and I missed her lesson on that subject. Please don't beat me. I'm sorry. I'll try harder next time."

"That's exactly what you said the last time. I've had enough of your excuses." Aunt Felicity left, and came back soon after holding an alarmingly long cane.

"Turn around and bend over," she ordered. Frank began to cry. Tears poured down his bony cheeks and onto the floor. His Aunt got impatient and forced Frank around. Soon, Frans could hear swishes of the stick and whimpers of agony, Frank at the mercy of his impatient Aunt. He covered his ears. Why did his brother have to make so much noise?

After a couple of minutes, a tall, handsome boy with dark blue eyes about eleven years old came into the room and dropped his bag. He immediately ran to Frank and pulled him away.

"That's enough Aunt! He's properly upset and hurt already! You're not our mother besides!" exclaimed Zac.

"Please move Zachary, unless you want to be hit instead," demanded the lady. "I'm not done with him yet. Your parents gave me permission to punish when necessary," Zac couldn't think of a protest but refused to budge. Their Aunt continued hitting poor Frank. Zac tried to block and got hit a good number of times. He grabbed Frank's hand and ran into their room and locked the door. Frank cried louder and clutched at Zac, unwilling to let go.

"It's all right Frank, she can't hit you anymore," said Zac comfortingly. "Let me check. Come on stand still." Zac stripped Frank down, looked at the marks on Franks back and begin to rub some cream on it. Frank soon stopped crying and Zac smiled at him. Frank tried to smile back

"Come on, I'll teach you. Take out your schoolbooks; I'll make sure you get top marks for your next test. I'll help you beat Frans too, then mummy and dad will be proud of you."

**-End of Flashback-**

Fatty looked at Frank's sad eyes and remembered about Frank's past. Frank used to be very sickly when he was much younger and cried a lot. He also knew that their Aunt Felicity didn't like Frank for being lazy, helpless and weak and always beat and slapped him. Frans had told him that. Frank was young then, and crying made his aunt even angrier. Frank never had a good time at his aunt's, and his only protection was Zac, who sometimes took the blame and got punished instead. When Zac came home from school and saw Frank getting beaten, he would quickly stand in between them and endure the blows. Frank, till now, was very grateful for that. Frans had never bothered to protect him. Frank stopped getting beaten so often when he was eleven. He had become much stronger then, like he was now.

Fatty shut his eyes tiredly and tried to get a short nap. Zac looked at him and began to wonder if he should take Fatty home. He didn't look too good. He wasn't really fully recovered yet. Frank soon solved that.

"I'll take you home Fred. You go and have your fun, Zac. I won't go to the fair. If you don't go they'll be wondering what took us so long. You go and tell them."

Zac nodded and cycled away after making sure that Fatty didn't need any extra help. The two triplet brothers cycled slowly back home and Frank settled his brother into bed, followed by Buster, who was ecstatic that Fatty had come home.

"You'll be fine," said Frank. "I'll just stay here and watch you. We've been to plenty of fairs before. I bet this one will be the same. Get some sleep."

"Thanks Frank, and I'm sorry that you were hurt at our Aunt's. Is that the reason why you don't like Frans?" he asked. Frank nodded.

"I know I shouldn't dislike him because he is my brother but I hated it when he teased me about falling sick and doing badly in exams and tests. He was awfully mean to me you know. You weren't there. You don't know how he treated me. Zac was great though. He took good care of me. I don't think I would have done what he did for me if I were Zac. I know Frans is really sorry but I can't bring myself to forgive him," Frank sighed. He took Fatty's temperature and settled down to do some code solving. He didn't need both his hands for that.


	22. A word of thanks Not a chapter xD

Hey guys! This is not a chapter but... I know its been like nearly a year before we posted. We didn't know people still took an interest in this story! So surprised (in a good way) to see that someone posted a review this year. Thanks! Anyway, we obviously owe you an explanation.

Erm... Anyone from Singapore here? (hopeful glance) Oh well, anyway, as Maria and I are both the same age, and coming on sixteen, we have our major exams coming up, equivalent to GCSE's... I guess you know that right? So it will be pretty tough this year. So we'll try to take some time going through the chapters, and please review more if you don't understand certain things in our story! We aren't the best writers, and lacking reason is part of the not-perfect package.

For those who want to post a story, you have to have an account first (Of course) click create a story, name it. To post a chapter, you have to first download a chapter through Document Manager (Upload). After that, click chapters/contents and voila! You can post! Haha.

BTW, if you wanna know more about Clemenceau High (CH), it's basically about the school life of the triplets and Zac as they meet the weirdest teachers and students in school. Zac is in fact the Head Boy, and a cheeky, extremely cute guy who always gets chased around the school by girls in their sister school, Misty Towers. The triplets are basically pranksters, and also the smartest boys in their level. Only Frank, although has an IQ of 170, is lazy, and always scrapes through his papers when he doesn't feel like working. The twins, Rachel and Randall and the parents are not in this story. And as for Fatty? Well, he's called Fred in CH, and he's the one that carries out all the pranks in the school!

Another news! Might be a leeeeeeetle exaggerated to you all, but we are making Zac a rather extraordinary character, (P.S. He leads a double life as a popstar) and a few teasers might just end up in here if you're lucky! haha... It's great fun writing about a (popstar) life you know. And there's more! Example: An A.U. story, the next generation of Trottevilles...

We are aware that all these are pulling our stories away from EB and her originality, but give us your views if you feel it's too much, and we'll try our best to give you more EBishness in our stories! Thanks again!

If you have ideas for our stories, why not give another review? The more the merrier. If we find it suitable and crazy enough, we'll make a chapter specially for your idea! It can be for any story, not just MOR.

One more thing. It would be nice if you could tell us your favourite character in MOR, and why. It's nice to know if we're developing the right caracter for others' enjoyment! Please give your opinions about this along with any chapter reviews for MOR.

One last, last thing, PROMISE!!! please take a look at our profile although it was only updated in May. We will do so again as soon as possible. And even if the next chapter only comes out in December, we promise not to give up. We are so glad of your support, and we woudn't want to let you down! We love y'all!

Love,

Clarinda (Maria's busy)

p.s. Some stuff here are repeated from the profile, I know. just note that we are NOT old grandmas. We know that some iof you are too lazy to see the profile so... YUP!


	23. Family Time

Whenever Frank had his mind focused on a certain thing, he could finish it up in minutes, possibly seconds. This was an example. Frank had been working on the coded paper for the past fifteen minutes and had finally solved the code. He couldn't believe what he was reading now. It took him a good, long moment to overcome the shock. Thursday. Thursday, that was in two days time. He had tried to call Fred, but his brother had fallen asleep. Frank shook Fatty hard and Fatty finally woke up. He too, was shocked when he heard what Frank was trying to say. It really was too much of a coincidence; for him, that is

"It says here that a group of people will be at Dad's company at midnight, Thursday, April 3rd. They'll be there with the equipment as stated in Plan A. We, of course, can tell that these criminals are going to have something to do with fire considering the equipment they're using, matches and all. I suspect that this man, Mr. Finn is the ringleader. He'll pay big time for whatever he did. Made someone ill, nearly killed you. Destroying dad's company. You know the superintendent don't you? You'd better call him. But we'll both speak to dad first thing tomorrow morning. This is important. The thing is, I still can't understand why they could leave such a valuable piece of work lying on the floor like that. Do you think it's a fluke? I hope dad doesn't get into a fit. It'll be a big loss for him and many others if the building gets destroyed. Hateful man, that Finn," said Frank angrily.

Frank's expression was very dark and he started speaking angrily in rapid French, then in Latin, then German, then in another language that Zac had taught him and that Fatty did not understand. Fatty grinned and hastened to slow him down.

"Why are you speaking in another language Frank? You sound absurd and you don't even look French for one thing," remarked Fatty. Frank stared at him. He didn't really know why he started speaking French! He just felt like it; it was instinct. He shrugged. Fatty laughed.

"Comic of you," he said. "French, German and Latin indeed." Frank gave him a small smile. He was truly worried.

"Cheer up Frank. We really can't do anything now. We'll just go through everything together and see if we've got it all right. Let's start from the time I ate the tainted scones," suggested Fatty. Both of them put their heads together and began to discuss the facts once through. Two ingenious boys were more than enough, for they were soon sure of everything. They were sure that they couldn't have made a mistake.

"Right," said Frank. "Now that we're done, and decided on what to do, I suggest you get some more rest. Hopefully you'll be able to come down for breakfast tomorrow. The others are having tea at the fair. I'll take yours up when you are hungry. Technically you didn't have any lunch at all. No protests Fred, I'm older than you, whatever it is. Lie down."

Fatty frowned at Frank, and then grinned after a while.

"You know Frank, I'm really much, much better already. I don't feel so sick anymore," he said. Frank looked at him disapprovingly.

"You're still weak. Lie down. I promised Zac to watch you. You can get up when you've had at least an hour of rest."

Fatty pouted childishly.

"You're behaving like Frans, not at all like yourself," he commented. Frank gave him a dark glare.

"Don't you ever mention that in front of me! Never ever!" he growled angrily. Fatty ignored the dangerous tone as if he were immune to it.

"Now that's more like it!" said Fatty cheerfully. Frank sighed, and he got out a game of chess.

"I don't usually play board games," he said. "But seeing that you _crave_ for company, I'll play a game of chess with you. How about that? I've never played with you before, only Frans. You're the school champion. If I beat you, then…"

"Don't even think about it!" said Fatty, grinning, though he was half doubtful. Frank's logical thinking skills were excellent, but so were his. His only benefit was that Frank hardly ever played chess. He might have forgotten the techniques.

The game was enjoyable, for Frank, unlike Eunice, did not take a long time to make his move. It took a long time, however, to finish the game for both boys were very competitive. Frank made a wrong move, which happened to be a very critical one, and realised it too late. Fatty won. Frank didn't sulk at all, surprisingly, though he hated losing.

"Congrats," murmured Frank. Fatty ruffled his hair. Frank never minded, his hair was usually messy anyway.

"It's an hour already, Frank. Can I get out of bed now?" pleaded Fatty. Frank grinned at him and nodded.

"Thank you!" Fatty immediately climbed out of his bed and sat next to Frank on their writing desks.

"We hardly ever get to spend time like this alone isn't it?" said Frank. "Frans always gets in the way. He wouldn't have been so bad if he stopped bossing us around."

Fatty shrugged. He didn't really dislike Frans.

"You've been ill for a long time Fred, I'm glad you're feeling better. You did look rather awful you know," said Frank. Fatty smiled.

"Not as bad as when you were younger, a sickly boy and very small. You were much shorter than both of us then. Ended up in hospital thrice! My illness is nothing compared to that." Frank smiled feebly in embarrassment.

"I haven't fallen ill for a long time, and I'm proud of it," said Frank. Fatty nodded.

"You've grown a good bit too. You're the same height as us now. Almost, at least."

When the others came back, the brothers told them of the solved code and their plans. Zac looked the most horrified of all, for he had discussed certain things with his father and understood the critical situation. He was still having a cold and went rather pale, insisting that their father should be told immediately.

"Doesn't mean even if I'm in the mood to take you all out means I'm not ill," he stated bluntly. He went huffily to his room and stayed there, slaving away with his books.

"Zac's angry that we aren't too anxious about dad's company," noted Frank, looking at the confused faces of resulted from Zac's sudden change of mood.

"He didn't look as if he was having a cold just now, do you think he's really ill?" asked Bets. Frank nodded.

"You'll see soon. The moment he comes in contact with his books, stress gets at him. He's always like that," replied Frank. "But he, unlike Frans, can be rather fun in school. He's one of the cheekiest Head Boys we've ever had for years." The others nodded. Zac could be very fun and very silly if he wanted to. All the children adored him.

"And the best we've ever had in years too. He's fair with punishments; he can be serious, and funny at the right time. You should see him during a formal meeting. He sits right in front facing us with the Vice Head Boy, awfully serious. He performs, unlike most Heads who assumes that they are only good at studies and in their behaviour. Zac does everything. He's even good at sports too!" praised Fatty.

"Zac doesn't look the sporty type," said Pip in amazement.

"Then you'll be wondering how he got his strong build and is so tall. You haven't seen him in sleeveless shirts or shirtless yet. He's always well covered up. I think you would get a shock when you do. He's more muscular than me! And very handsome; you have to agree with me on that. He really is good-looking. Has perfect eyes, mouth, nose and all. A real charm with the girls at Misty towers," said Frank, grinning.

Fatty looked at Frank and smirked.

"One bad thing about being good at sports is; you get girls coming after you all the time. It's humiliating I tell you, for some people," he said.

"But I thought yours was a boys' school!" remarked Daisy. "How can there be girls then?"

"We have a sister school next door. It's called Misty Towers. Ours is called Clemenceau High. We also have an affiliated school for juniors, but the twins don't go there. They go to day school, but they'll be switching to Bets's school for now. Their old school is too far away from here." At that, Bets eyes brightened up.

"I shall ask mummy to let me go to Misty Towers when I'm older. Then I can see you every day, Fatty," she exclaimed. Everyone laughed.

"There are criteria for these two schools you know, you've got to get a certain grade before you can get in. It's not as easy as you think. You've got to be the top twenty percent in the overall leaving exams. You've got to study hard, Bets," Fatty told her. Bets nodded and put on a serious expression. She'll work hard all right!

"Only smart people like you Trotteville's will be able to get in. You're all born smart, life just isn't fair" said Larry. Frank grinned and nodded in agreement.

"Well, you three go and talk to your dad, then tell us what's going to happen first thing in the morning all right?" asked Larry. "You haven't been saying anything at all Frans, what's the matter with you?" Frans shrugged and looked at Frank, who glared back.

"Frank, I'm…" began Frans.

"I don't want to have anything to do with you for the last time. So just shut up and pretend I'm not here!" cut in Frank. Frans said nothing but walked away instead.

"You made him properly upset Frank," said Fatty. "Don't be too harsh on him. He looks terribly miserable." Frank refused to answer. He pursed his mouth and looked round.

"Well, if everything's decided, then we should be going home I guess. There's nothing much to do left," said Pip. Before anyone could say anything else, Rachel interrupted and took Fatty's arm.

"Could Randall and I please go and see Bet's playroom? You told us it's such a big one, and I do want to see how it's like," she babbled, giving Fatty her best smile. Fatty grinned at her.

"You two go ahead, if Bets and Pip doesn't mind, but I promised to do some stuff with Frank, so you'll be going alone," agreed Fatty. Rachel gave him her sweet smile and hugged him. The twins ran off with Bets, chatting happily at the top of their voices with the older three following behind. Fatty looked at his best brother.

"So what are we going to do about Frans? He's been really quiet with us around. He's properly upset; you really ought to forgive him Frank," he said.

"He made me much more miserable than he is now. He ought to get a taste of his own medicine. Pompous old coot," growled Frank. "As if getting slapped and whipped all the time isn't satisfying enough for his entertainment! I couldn't show that I was angry with Frans at Aunt's, but I can now, and I'll give him whatever he deserves!" Fatty sighed and put his arm around Frank.

"You need a break. Come on, we could have a game of tennis, or roller blade for a bit down in the basement. It always cheers you up doesn't it? We'll go and change first," he suggested. Frank nodded and they were soon 'winding down' playing tennis.


	24. Brotherly Care and the Report

**Chunk 7**

The next morning, Frank lost no time to tell his father about their findings. Their father was at a loss for words.

"Are you sure about this both of you?" he asked after a while. "It certainly sounds dangerous." Frank and Fatty both nodded. Zac and Frans stared at them. The whole table was in complete silence. No one was eating. The twins sat open mouthed on their seats. Mrs. Trotteville was just as surprised. Even the cook and the maid were shocked.

"We could explain it again if you want dad. We've got the evidence. Or would you like Frederick to call the Superintendent now?" asked Frank.

"Yes, yes you better call the police Frederick," said Mr. Trotteville.

"Are you all right, dad? You look rather pale," observed Frank.

"I'm going to make the call now," said Fatty, leaving the table. Mr. Trotteville nodded slowly, still in shock. Zac got up and went over to his father.

"You all right dad?" he asked, putting an arm on his father's shoulder. Gently he massaged Mr. Trotteville, who nodded grimly.

"I didn't think Finn would be so revengeful. I can't thank you enough boys. I can't think what would have happened if you haven't solved this mystery in time."

Frank grinned at his father.

"Sure! No problem, any rewards dad?" he asked hopefully. Zac dug him hard in the ribs.

"Ouch! What's wrong with asking?" Frank glared at him. Zac grinned back.

"Just for the sake of fun," mused Zac. "I haven't been teasing you for weeks." Frans had been very quiet for a while; he was contemplating whether it was a good time to speak to Frank; Frank was in a relatively good mood. He opened his mouth to speak, before any sound came out, Frank cut him off.

"I told you not to speak to me! Shut up you hear me?" scolded Frank, his facial expression changing like the weather.

"But Frank, I do admit that I'm…" began a shamefaced Frans.

"I said SHUT UP!!!" yelled Frank. He couldn't take it anymore. Flashbacks of his brother's teasing and mocking ran through his mind rapidly. Frans laughing at him when he got slapped by Aunt, Frans putting the entire blame on him, Frans getting scot-free, Frans smirking, Frans…

"I really feel like slapping you right now! I hate you! I'm very frustrated right now. Don't even try bothering to apologise ever again! I will never in my…"

"Franklin Jericho Trotteville! Keep quiet or you'll go to your room at once! Francis did not do anything bad to you. Just because he yanked at your arm, you have got to be so furious at him," demanded Mrs. Trotteville.

"Mother," warned Frank, his chest heaving heavily in outrage. "I am not furious at him for that. He knows very well what I'm angry with him for. And if you want me to go to my room, I'll be pleased to…"

"Frank, please! I'm terribly sorry. I know it was awfully mean of me to tease you. But we were young then, I didn't understand how helpless you were," tried Frans again. By the look on Frank's face, he knew that he had said something terribly wrong.

"I am not helpless," growled Frank dangerously. "And for the last time, I WILL NEVER IN MY LIFE FORGIVE YOU, YOU HEAR ME!!!!!!!!!!"

Frank stood up, shoved Frans's chair over, so that Frans was thrown roughly onto the floor, and stomped up to his room, slamming the door shut. Mrs. Trotteville and Zac immediately went to see if Frans was all right. Frans was lying on the floor, perfectly all right except for some slight scrapes on his knees and a bruise on his head. Zac could understand why Frank was so angry, but his mother could not, for she hadn't actually seen what Frans had done to Frank previously, and was extremely vexed. Mrs. Trotteville pulled Frans up to a sitting position and checked him all over. In the middle of the hullabaloo, Fatty came back.

"I've called the superintendent, dad and…" Fatty looked on the floor and saw a rather shaky and miserable Frans on the floor. He had heard some noises back there, but hadn't really suspected anything. The telephone was a few rooms away besides.

"What… What is going on!" asked Fatty, exasperated. "Where's Frank? Are you all right Frans?" Fatty looked at his father and the twins, who were the only ones sitting at the table. Mr. Trotteville looked rather shocked at the commotion himself. The twins, however, didn't look too serious. Mr. Trotteville turned to look at Fatty.

"How's the phone call?" he asked Fatty.

"It's all right, he'll be here soon, in an hour or so. I've called my friends over dad, is it all right? Good. Could you please tell me what's happening?" Mr. Trotteville told him.

"I'll just go and see Frank," said Fatty immediately. He went up and knocked on his room door.

"I'm Fred. Open the door Frank," pleaded Fatty. There was no answer. Fatty pushed the door open and saw Frank on his bed. He was covering his face with his hands in distress.

"Go away Fred, I want to be alone," said Frank in a muffled voice. Fatty took no notice and went over to his brother.

"Frank, it's all right. I know you're upset," said Fatty. He took hold of Frank's arms and gave him a hug; Frank returned it rather hesitantly.

"How do you feel?" asked Fatty. Frank shrugged stubbornly.

"Is Frans all right?" he asked. Fatty looked at him, surprised. That was the very last thing he had expected Frank to say.

"Frans is fine; mother's tending to him now. He isn't injured. Don't worry," assured Fatty.

"I'm afraid mother's going to be in a frightful temper with me. I hate Frans, but I can't help feeling sorry for him," said Frank slowly. Fatty gave him a questioning look.

"Look, you won't understand what I'm talking about. C…Could you just stay here for company? I need someone to talk to right now, Fred."

"Aren't I accompanying you now? Anyway, Superintendent Jenks will be here in about an hour or so. You'll have to pretend as if nothing has happened all right? You've been upset, I know. Say whatever you want to me, Frank, I'll listen," said Fatty kindly.

Frank began to pour out all the thoughts that had been bothering him, he told Fatty how he had felt when he was at Aunt's. He told Fatty why he was _that_ angry with Frans, how Frans used to hurt him; laughed at him when he was ill in bed, mocked him when he did badly for his tests, stared at him and smirked when his Aunt caned him. He told Fatty almost all that he had been keeping to himself for a long time. Fatty listened it his brother in horror and also in excitement. Frank wasn't himself at all now, or you could say, he was finally himself now. He looked very serious and worried. Fatty wondered if his other siblings were as troubled as Frank was.

When Frank was done, he sighed.

"I feel better now," said Frank. "Thanks." Fatty smiled at him and nodded.

"Promise you won't tell anybody Fred, I trust you. Only Zac knows, but it's hard to talk to Zac sometimes you know. He's always so busy."

"I promise."

The doorbell rang in the distance. Fatty looked up.

"That must be the Super. Come on, you have to do most of the explaining Frank; you solved most of it. I didn't do anything," said Fatty. The two brothers went down and Fatty opened the door. The superintendent smiled at him and shook hands.

"I see you've lost a lot of weight Frederick," said Superintendent Jenks. Fatty nodded and grinned.

"I'd like you to meet some people before we begin, sir." He led the policeman into his house and went to the sitting room where his family members were. Jenks looked rather astonished at the crowd. Fatty grinned and winked at Frank.

"Sir, these are my triplet brothers Franklin and Francis, this is my 17 year old brother Zachary and these are my twin brother and sister Rachel and Randall. They're nine."

Superintendent raised an eyebrow and whistled. So Frederick wasn't an only child! Now that was interesting. He shook hands solemnly with Fatty's family members and smiled at Zac, whom he thought looked very responsible and dignified. Buster barked and pawed at Jenks's knee.

"Zac's Head Boy of our school," said Frank, noticing the Superintendent's expression.

"And Frank's a child prodigy, a genius," continued Zac with a mischievous glint in his eye, and received a glare from Frank.

"You don't mean that!" exclaimed the burly man, looking at Fatty, who grinned and nodded. Before Frank could say, no he really wasn't, Fatty spoke.

"He is sir, but he's in the same form as us. He's got no intention to skip grades," explained Fatty. Adult conversations were held between the Trotteville parents, Zac, and Jenks for a while before loud chatters were heard from the entrance. Fatty got up from his seat.

"It's the others sir, I'll get them and then we could start on the mystery."

The children were led into the sitting room and squeals and loud voices of excitement soon filled the room, much to the Trotteville parents' amusement. Bets ran first to the big man, who flung her in the air and back down. As usual, Bets squealed. The others crowded around him eagerly, each trying to get his attention.

When everyone settled down, Fatty cleared his throat and spoke.

"I won't be doing the explaining for this peculiar mystery sir, Frank will. I was ill and couldn't help you see," he said. Jenks nodded and everyone turned their eyes on a rather irritated Frank, who hated attention. Frank then spoke.

"There really isn't much explaining to do sir, Fred and I have already discussed the points out and written it down with Zac's help. Here's the report," he said, handing a stack of papers to the amused Superintendent. The man looked through the papers and smiled. It was well done, to say the least. Inside were the papers that had been found under the door of the funny house and also the note from the cigar.

The neatly printed out notes had things like clues, followed by the description and where they were found, and after which the interpretation, like how historians did their work. Suspects, which mainly had three: Mr. Finn, the man that had helped fight with Frank, and the teashop waitress.

The reasons were clearly stated and the description of the fight was also written out. The process of solving the codes was included, as well as the final analysis and conclusion. It took a while for the superintendent to read the notes and the others waited patiently. When he was done, he looked up.

"Who did this?" he asked, looking at Frank. "It's done in a very professional way, nothing missed out and very clearly stated. Only a learned policeman would know how to write such helpful notes."

Fatty grinned.

"Frank did it sir," he admitted. "I only helped in a bit. I told you he was smart. It's simply common sense to him. He said so." Superintendent Jenks looked at Frank and nodded in approval. Frank grinned back and shrugged.

"You could help with the police force some day, your logical thinking skills are excellent for a detective. You could be partners with your brother, Frederick. Consider it, will you?" asked a rather hopeful Superintendent. Frank shook his head regrettably.

"I'm going to be a professional artist when I grow up," he explained. "I drew all the diagrams in the notes. They were not printed. (Sense of pride) Zac thought they were. I really have no intention to be a detective, I'm awfully sorry, but it's not my passion." Frank felt rather guilty when he saw the superintendent's upset look, which soon twisted back into a smile again. He looked round.

"Well, I would have thought you would use such fine brains to help the world. Some day you might even invent things that might change the lives of many people. It is a waste to use it for your artistic talents." Frank looked rather upset at that. "I never said you should stop drawing, but you could really do something else as well. For example, you could invent a cure for the cold, or even prevent global warming! I know you have plenty of potential. Please think about what I have said," advised Jenks, his eyes twinkling. He turned to look at a worried Mr. Trotteville.

"Please follow me to the headquarters if you may. I'd like to discuss some important things to prove the crime of our dear Mr. Finn. You have to come too, Franklin, we might need to take a few x-rays of your wrist. He could be charged for child abuse you know." Frank stared at Jenks.

"Err… my wrist wasn't supposed to be so badly injured, sir. I had some very, err… unfortunate incidents after that," he began slowly, looking at Frans, who gulped. The superintendent smiled, "Doesn't matter. Yes, I'll need to get our dear old friend, Goon too. He'll need to know about this. Have you all been meeting him?"

The Find-Outers shook their heads, almost miserably, noted the amused man.

"This has been a very interesting meeting don't you all agree? I might come by and visit you again when I'm free. A whole family of Trottevilles can't be boring at all, ever since I've known Frederick."

Before Frank and his father left, Rachel made Frank promise that he would tell them all that would happen later on. Frank agreed and patted his sister fondly on the head, as a form of apology. Rachel smiled, planted a kiss on Frank's cheek and gave him a hug.

"You want to come along? Come on, I'll give you a piggyback ride," offered Frank, grinning. He squatted down and Rachel went obligingly to him, she squealed in excitement when Frank jerked up suddenly and raced to his father's car. Randall didn't mind. He waved to Rachel and received a cheerful and lively one back.


	25. It’s Finally Over

**It's Finally Over**

"I'm glad everyone's well and healthy and Dad's got nothing to worry about!" sighed Frank, plopping himself against the large armchair in the triplets' shared room. The children, including the Find-Outers, had just had the best tea, provided by Mr. Trotteville himself who had felt it important to give them a reward for their hard work. Frank had only been discharged two days ago, and his head was still wrapped in a bandage. His wrist was in a cast as well.

"All I'm glad about is that you and Frans have finally made up," grinned Zac. "I guess it takes a tragedy to fix you two up huh?" Frans grinned over to Frank, who laughed. When Frank was in the hospital, Frans had visited him with a whole stack of puzzles and math books for Frank. Apparently he had spent a whole months' worth of his allowance to purchase them. As he was known as the selfish one in the family, Frank felt he had no choice but to forgive his dear brother. He had then proceeded to do the first math puzzle from the first book. Frank loved logical puzzles.

"What I'm glad about is that you've finally had some sense to reschedule your time and given time for relaxing, Zac," said Fatty, clapping Zac on the back. "At least you won't be as sick as a dog any longer."

"I'm happy that everyone's ok! Mr. Finn's not going to bother anyone for a long time, and Mr. Trotteville is finally at peace. We've saved the town once again!" sighed Bets, and looked round at her friends cheerfully, to receive nods of agreement.

"This is just about the coolest, most amazing and thrilling we've ever had, what with shooting and hostages. I actually felt like a real detective on the move!" laughed Pip. "Although, it would have been better if Frank and Fatty hadn't been hurt. Now all the fun's ended and it's getting pretty boring."

"Not to mention school's in one week!" replied Daisy.

"Bother school! I'm hoping my head and wrist will allow me to miss school for a few days. It's utterly boring and useless, in my opinion. What's the use of history and literature if you want to be and artist!" complained Frank.

"You wish!" said Zac. "As long as you can think and walk, mum and dad would never let you skip school. Besides, they'll probably bug me to force you into the train if they have to. I'm dreading school as well. Other than getting to meet my best friends, it's the stress of studying and being a Head Boy that will drive me crazy. And Misty Towers is just another obstacle for me. I can never get away from that school. I just wish I could just focus on preparing activities for Clemenceau High itself. Why is it that I have to bother about their school?" Since no one understood Zac's troubles, no one had any comment. Even Buster sat peacefully beside Fatty, licking his hand whenever Fatty tried to pat his head.

"I guess it's been a long Summer anyhow," concluded Fatty. "Let's hope we'll get another chance at tackling such an exciting mystery again, my fellow Find-Outers!" The five children cheered, and Frank spoke up.

"Just so you know, I don't think I'll help out in anymore mysteries. It's not really my thing, I you know what I mean. Frans and Zac and the twins probably won't be a part as well. Besides we're not a part of the Find-Outers anyway. Still, no wrong in toasting for a new first class mystery next hols!"

That's right Frank! Let's hope the Find Outers find out a new thrilling mystery for the next hols! You just never know what's about to happen!

**THE END!**

Hey! THANKS a bunch for those readers who have read and supported this story! We'll write a new one if we get inspiration! Tell us your opinions, good or bad for the entire story if you like! We'll be more than pleased to read them!

Yours Truly,

Table42 (a.k.a. Clarinda and Maria) XOXX


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